


From Italy, with Love

by Watthefuckidk



Series: The Old Garage [2]
Category: The Old Guard (Comics), The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Mechanics, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, BAMF Joe, BAMF Nicky, Car Accidents, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Major Character Injury, Mechanic!Joe, Mechanic!Nile, Shop owner andy, Street Racing, healthy competition, non-graphic descriptions of injury, soft joe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:01:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25450540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Watthefuckidk/pseuds/Watthefuckidk
Summary: Andy owns a specialty car shop called The Old Garage. Booker runs the business, Joe and Nile take care of the beautiful cars, and the whole group competes in highly illegal street racing in their spare time.Then, one day, a new racer on the scene begins to threaten Joe's reign, as does a new mysterious Italian customer with a never ending stream of beautiful cars.Idk how to write summaries, just give it a try;)
Relationships: Andy | Andromache of Scythia & Quynh | Noriko, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Series: The Old Garage [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2118642
Comments: 215
Kudos: 938





	1. The Greasy Meet Cute

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by fruityUndertaker! I'm planning this to be a multi-chapter fic and will let y'all know how many chapters there will be as soon as I know how many chapters there'll be. Let me know what y'all think and feel free to shoot me an idea or two lol.
> 
> Enjoy!

“Joe! New customer just called, he’ll be stopping by with a 2019 Lancia Stratos in fifteen for a tune up.” 

Joe popped his head out from the pit to look at Booker. Parked above him was a ‘20 corvette just barely off the lot. 

“A ‘19 Stratos in this part of California? I never thought I’d see the day.” 

“Yeah well it’ll be here in fifteen so, you know, be ready. Nile isn’t coming in until three so you’re managing the garage until I get back from picking up those parts from Copley.” 

“Yeah right, no worries.” 

Booker, wearing a leather jacket but still managing to look like an academic, said goodbye and went back into the office. Joe went back to work under the corvette, turning the music on his bluetooth speaker louder. The three door garage was spacious and well organized, Nile’s area the most so. Andy’s was littered with various parts of engines and God knows what else. As the owner, Joe figured she was allowed to do whatever the hell she wanted. Booker’s domain was the office, register, and waiting room inside. The Old Garage had been in this spot for years, specializing in custom, foreign, and racing cars. Andy had inherited the space from her mother and revamped it into a specialized business that, surprising most of the town, now raked in money. 

Before opening the garage and after her mother’s death, Andy travelled a lot, which is how she and Joe met in Jerusalem when Joe, then Yusuf, was a young motorcycle mechanic. She stayed at the hostel above the shop he worked at, stopping by every morning and evening to give him some pointers or test his knowledge of more complex engines. At the end of her month-long stay, she offered him a position in her shop and Joe, an unattached and adventurous young man, knew not to pass up an opportunity like that. 

They had returned together, Joe’s first time in the U.S., to Andy’s long-term girlfriend Quynh and a rusted out garage. Quynh stared at Joe for approximately a minute when they first met before deciding that they were kindred spirits. She welcomed him into the couple’s modest apartment with open arms. Together the three of them began restoring the shop, Andy and Joe as the mechanics and Quynh managing the front and their accounts. For three years the three of them gradually renovated the shop and brought in more and more customers. Joe picked up English through car manuals, the radio, and patient lessons from the two women. 

In his fourth year stateside Joe got his own apartment, determined to carve out a space of his own in his new home. That was the year Quynh got cancer. It would’ve been easier, Joe thought bitterly, if she had died quickly. Instead, she stayed with them for two more years, struggling through chemotherapy treatments that seemed to kill her faster than the cancer had. Andy refused to leave her side, leaving much of the business to Joe. Despite his best efforts, one person working was just not enough to keep the same flow of customers they had served in the good years. Money ran lower as Quynh grew worse and then one day, she was gone. 

Her body survived for three weeks on life support, but in the end, they just couldn’t afford it any longer. 

Andy was devastated, and Joe hadn’t fared much better. In his grief he threw himself into the garage and the underground street racing circles he had only dabbled in before. Andy just disappeared. He still wasn’t sure where she went for those six long months, but when she came back it was with steely eyes and a set to her jaw that indicated the conversation was closed. 

Booker joined them not long after that, and the business bounced back to even stronger than it had been before. The whine of a V8 engine and rasp of rubber against tarmac tore Joe from his wandering thoughts. From under the low body of the corvette he was working on, he could see the equally low carriage of the Stratos that Booker had mentioned. Lancia Stratos was an Italian racing car, and only around 30 of the 2019 model had been made. There were plenty of rich fuckers in southern California, but to see one with enough sense to buy a beauty like that was rare. 

The door opened and two black leather boots stepped out. Joe shook his head and chided himself for getting so lost in his thoughts. He climbed out of the pit and heard the car door shut, but the pit stairs forced his back to the newcomer until he was all the way out. 

“Hi! Sorry, I completely lost track of time.” He apologized as he turned around, grabbing at the hand towel on his work bench, completely unprepared for the beautiful picture awaiting him. The Stratos was a marvel, entirely black with crisp white detailing and windows tinted so dark he was sure it was illegal. The real work of art, however, was the man standing next to it. He was tall and dressed in unassuming jeans and a light blue t-shirt, but his face was clearly the inspiration of Raphael, Michelangelo, and Caravago. He had a prominent nose, arched brows, and a wide mouth, currently holding a neutral expression. His eyes, even at this distance, were an arresting green that hinted at humor and kindness. Joe felt like someone had struck him in the chest and deposited new emotions with which he was not familiar. It was impossible to wrestle them away, so Joe was forced to feel each thing that he could not name in turn, and attempt all the while to look unaffected. 

Joe hid his breathlessness by clearing his throat and looking down to try to rub the grease off of his hands. 

“So, uh, you’re here for a tune-up?” 

The man smiled, more with his eyes than with his mouth, and nodded.

“Yes, there is a pause between fourth and fifth gear.” His voice was soft with the hint of an accent. 

Huh, Italian masterpiece next to an Italian masterpiece, Joe joked to himself.

“Yeah okay, I can take a look. If you’ll pull into the third bay?” He gestured to Andy’s empty bay on his left. The man nodded and ducked back into the car, pulling it up slowly to the correct spot. Joe, already problem solving, lifted the trunk hood as soon as the man parked and unlocked it. 

“Is there somewhere I should wait?” The warm voice asked from his elbow. Joe’s head jerked up and was met by an up close view of those emotive eyes, currently looking bemused. Joe’s chest hurt the way it had before. “Or do you mind if I watch you work?” 

Joe could feel himself blushing and worked desperately to get it under control. Customers with cars as nice as this were rarely handsome young men, much less poetry incarnate. He could hear Quynh making fun of him for being a hopeless romantic. 

“Yeah, you can hang out here if you want. There’s a TV in the waiting room if you get bored.” 

“I won’t get bored.” The assertion caught Joe off guard but the man didn’t look like he was joking. They broke eye contact a few seconds after what would have been appropriate, and Joe nodded mutely as he returned his attention to the engine. 

It probably should’ve been odd for an Italian man to be standing over his shoulder as he worked on his absurdly expensive car, but it really wasn’t. After the second carefully asked question, Joe began to explain what he was looking for as he searched for the sticking problem. Eventually he lifted the car to examine the undercarriage, which is where he eventually found the issue. 

“Okay here we go! Your master clutch cylinder is leaking a bit so your pressure is off.”

The man hummed in understanding, and Joe was caught by surprise with how close he was. He turned his head to catch the man’s profile as he examined where Joe was working with the cylinder. When Joe’s hands stalled he turned to face him. They were very very close- much closer than Joe usually allowed people to be. He wasn’t uncomfortable. 

“Joe? Are you here? Booker locked up the office again, like we have anything to steal in there.” 

Nile’s voice carried through the garage easily and Joe started, quickly stepping away from the other man.

“Yeah-” Joe cleared his throat, “Yeah over here.” He stepped out from under the elevated car to see Nile in her coveralls, putting her backpack down onto the bench. She smiled at him for a moment before her eyes flicked over his shoulder. 

“Oh, sorry I didn’t realize you were with a customer.”

Joe looked over his shoulder to see the man had come out from under the car as well, one arm raised and holding on to the lift, exposing a small glimpse of hip that had Joe’s mouth dry. 

“Yeah yeah Nile this is-” He stopped, fighting yet again to hide his blush when he realized that he had never even asked the man’s name. 

“Nicoló.” He reached out to offer his hand. “But you can call me Nicky.” 

She took his proffered hand while giving Joe a look that clearly said: Who the hell is this guy?

“This is his Stratos, I was just fixing a leaking cylinder.” 

Nile, bless her, let the awkward phrasing go and made a face of understanding. 

“Mmm, shifting problems?” 

Nicky nodded.

“Yes exactly, we just found the problem.” He looked at Joe with a small smile. Behind him, Joe saw Nile raise an eyebrow at him, which he ignored. 

“Well I’ll leave y’all to it.” Nile gave Joe another look before turning and grabbing the office keys off of his workbench. Joe thought she took her backpack into the office but Nicky was still looking at him with those eyes, so clearly he had other things to think about. 

“It’ll take fifteen minutes to replace, no worries.” 

“Wonderful.” Nicky gave him another small smile and Joe found himself fighting a blush again but thought: fuck it. He winked at Nicky. 

Nicky’s smile grew. 

Joe was fucked.


	2. The Camaro and the Spyder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joe gets some family teasing, and a new rival in the world of illicit street racing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who commented and kudos'd my last chapter!! Y'all definitely made this one write faster and longer lol. I've tracked out the whole story so I can confidently say this piece will be eight chapters. Let me know what y'all think!

“Bro what does it feel like to be a total sap? Like, a complete goner? Can you let me know?” 

Joe threw his greasy hand towel at Nile, who caught it as she laughed. 

“Will you shut up? I was not that bad.” 

“You just charged him half price for an hour of work! That’s more than the family discount!” 

“Who gave who a discount?” 

Booker walked into the shop to lean against Nile’s workbench, his hands deep in his pockets. Joe rolled his eyes dramatically and threw up his hands. He started to tidy up his bench.

“Joe has the hots for the Italian guy who owns the Stratos and gave him an insane discount.” 

“How hot?”

Nile made a considering face, but Joe interrupted before she could answer. 

“Worthy of the sculptures of Greece, for your knowledge.” Booker raised an eyebrow. “And it wasn’t an insane discount, I’m just ensuring that he’s going to be a repeat customer.” 

Nile looked unimpressed and Booker pushed off the table.

“Well if your Italian art piece has messed with the bottom line, that’s Andy you’ll have to talk to, not me.” 

“Well if neither of you tell Andy, that won’t be a problem.” 

Booker looks at Joe, his face serious for a moment, before turning towards the office. Nile watched them both closely. 

“You won’t have any issues from me,” he said at last. “But maybe try to come up with a better way to ask him out besides hoping that his car breaks down?” 

Nile smiled and Joe blushed as the door closed behind him. There was a pause, then Nile spoke up.

“You know we’re just playing with you, right?” Joe looked up at her. “We want you to be happy, Joe.” He dropped his head again, examining the metal surface of his workbench closely. 

“I know.” He looked back up at her. “He caught me off guard, that’s all.” 

Nile was shaking her head, but it seemed to be in agreement.

“You’re not a casual guy, especially when it comes to emotions.” She crossed over her empty port to stop his hand from worrying the tabletop and looked into his eyes sincerely. “That doesn’t mean you didn’t look like a complete dope when he left.” 

Joe took his hand away and started muttering in Arabic about annoying little sisters to Niles' loud and happy laughter. He stalked back to the corvette and Nile left him to it. Despite the teasing, Joe’s heart was warm with the love from his little family. He may not have much romantically at the moment, but his family certainly provided him with plenty of love. For the moment, the little part of him that cried out for something more, something different, was quiet. 

\---

“So I heard that your new crush is going to put me out of business,” Andy drawled, not taking her eyes off the road. Joe groaned and sunk down into the passenger seat, taking a long sip of his coffee.

“That bastard said he wouldn’t say anything.” 

“If by ‘that bastard’ you mean Booker, he didn’t. I heard him telling Copley about it over the phone.”    
  
“Those two gossip like old women.” Joe muttered, but there was no real heat behind the statement. 

“I’m not mad about it,” Andy ignored him, “I’m just glad to see that you’ve taken an interest in someone.” 

“You and the whole damn garage. I’m not- it’s not anything serious, okay? He just came in for a tune up, I probably won’t even see him again.” 

“We’ll see,” Andy said with the finality of someone who’s used to ending conversations. At the next stoplight, she reached out to turn up the radio, and the voice of an early morning newscaster filled the car as they began moving again. Joe took another sip of his coffee as the streetlights zipped past. There was something in the quiet of these early mornings that woke him up better than any cup of coffee ever could. In the side mirror, he could see the black trailer that towed his prized 2017 Chevrolet Camaro. 

He and Andy were headed to a street race, and Joe’s dark blue Camaro would be a familiar sight to those in attendance. See, there was regular street racing and then there was  _ real _ street racing. Regular racing took place late at night with Mustangs and Challengers and scantily clad women hanging onto the mundane men attempting to prove their masculinity. The real races were held in the early morning hours, between one and four, and involved betting pools that went into six digits. An automotive shop was a great way to clean any potentially ill-gotten money, and thanks to Joe, Old Garage had a lot of ill-gotten money. 

When Joe first started racing, he smoked the competition on the lower, regular, races. Before long he was invited up to the big leagues, Andy joining as his manager and coach after she came back from her hiatus. Booker changed the game once they realized they could make real money off of Joe’s talent. He thrived in the racing community, getting them the best races and the highest backers. Nile had tried her hand at a few races, and was improving each time, but Joe was their real money maker. 

“We’re here,” Andy said, pulling into a commuter parking lot just outside of the city. Others were already preparing their cars and Joe recognized quite a few faces. It would be a good race, but not one he was overly worried about. It was just past three in the morning and no one but the racers were around. 

Joe got out of Andy’s black RAM 3500 dually and circled around to the back of the trailer. While other teams had music playing and were laughing amicably, he and Andy were quiet. Racing was different for them. More than just a thrill, it provided an outlet to feel alive in a way nothing else could. The quiet, settled feeling that Joe felt before a race was the most at ease he ever felt. The stress of the shop, his future and his past all melted away in these early moments. There was only the race, and winning. 

Andy backed the car out slowly once Joe opened the trailer doors, and Joe took a moment to admire their handiwork. This was a 2017 Track Day Performance Camaro. Essentially, it was a racecar made street legal. Technically there were only two of these Camaros in existence, both of them owned by the pair of brothers that made them. Ultimately, the brothers had decided that they took too long to manufacture and make profitable, so the line was closed before it ever began. That didn’t stop Andy and Joe from manufacturing their own version of the same car, using Booker and his only slightly shady friend Copley to secure the right parts. In street racing, this car could outgun every other car around them, but it required an extremely skilled handler to not go flying off of the road. Its tires were about as slick as they come while still being street legal, a requirement of street racing, but they usually had to be replaced after every race because Joe would hug corners so tightly they would melt right off. 

The low rumble of the engine was like a comforting hum through the soles of his shoes as he patted the hood and closed up the trailer. Andy got out and tossed him his gloves. 

“Helmet is in there, you’ve got time to pee before we start but that’s about it.” She checked her watch as Joe pulled on his black driving gloves. Around them, cars began to make their way towards the start, the entry ramp of a five lane highway. 

“Actually, you might just have to hold it,” she said, patting his shoulder with a smile. “Remember, get out front before the exit and you’re golden. Curve seven is harder than you think, so go in under speed and kick it on the exit.”

“Got it boss.” Andy smiled at him again and trotted away to join the other non-drivers as they made their way up the exit ramp. Joe slid into the driver's seat and made sure everything was in place before joining the line of cars. He was the fourth, and last, in line. 

At some unseen signal, the front car advanced onto the highway, the other three following to pull into a straight line across the deserted highway. This was the tricky part of street racing, and part of the reason that he and Andy joined the higher leagues as soon as they could afford to. The best races employed lookouts along the entire route to ensure that speed traps or even just beat cops stayed out of their way. Some circles paid other cops to do this, but others used older racers and mechanics who needed some cash. This meant, however, they had to move quickly once everything was in place. Each car was tuned into their team’s radio frequency, who guided them through the reports from the watchers. Legally speaking, once on the highway, their intent was clear and cops could take action. 

“Joe, rev your engine if you copy.” Joe revved the engine. “Copy that. Stay safe out there.” There was static for a moment, meaning that Andy still had the button depressed on her headset. “We’ve got a wildcard entrance, to your right.” 

Joe looked over just as the hood of a white Lamborghini Huracan came into view. The windows were tinted, but he could just make out the helmet of the driver inside. 

“That’s a Huracan Spyder, zero to sixty in 3.4 seconds. He’ll outgun you so you’ll have to out drive him.” Andy’s voice came from the speaker in his helmet. 

Joe didn’t have time to respond before the head of the racing ring held up the start flag from the highway median, then swiftly dropped it down. 

Immediately, the sound of engines roaring and the heavy scent of exhaust filled Joe’s senses, but it wouldn’t last for long. He and the white Spyder shot forward, the other cars rapidly falling behind through his rear view. Starting a race with a straightway like this was difficult for the heavier cars, but they would make up ground on the more complex maneuvering. 

Four exits down the highway, Joe could see the watcher waving them down the exit ramp into the next part of the race. The Spyder was in front of him by a car length, and Joe felt proud that his Camaro had kept up so well. They were easily going over one hundred miles an hour, but Joe wasn’t in the habit of looking at his speedometer during races. They braked hard down the ramp and Joe pulled the wheel sharply and opened the clutch, his back tires spinning as they took a 90 degree turn right onto a wide boulevard. He slammed into gear, faster and tighter around the corner than the Spyder, and they were now neck and neck down the boulevard. 

There wasn’t time to regain the speed they’d had on the open road as they swerved onto a tighter street that forced the Spyder to drop behind him to avoid hitting the median. Joe kept a steady eye on the rearview as the other car slid left and right, looking for an opportunity to sneak up the side. The opportunity came when the road opened up into two lanes before a downhill curve, and the Spyder managed to slip into the inside angle. Joe smiled grimly and let the Spyder inch forward, then shifted up and regained the ground in the next turn, where he was perfectly situated on the inside to swing out in front when they hit the straight away. 

His trick foiled, the Spyder shifted in his rearview as they sped along the straight away, so Joe mirrored him to block his path. This driver was clearly very good, but Joe knew his car and these roads better than he did. 

They took two more turns neck in neck, and battled for first in the two curves following. Joe slowed as he prepared for the final curve before the last straightaway. 

_ Go in under speed and kick it on the exit _ . This turn was one of the most dangerous he raced. It was where the road doubled back on itself on a downward angle, a perfect 180 degree turn. Already, he could see the Spyder grappling with it in front of him. He opened the clutch and pulled at the hand brake, sliding through the turn and just barely avoiding the long hood of the Spyder. 

It was the cleanest he’d ever pulled that turn, and the finish line was in sight, but when he checked the rearview, the Spyder was nowhere to be found Glancing at his side mirror, he saw the white car advancing steadily through his blind spot and pulling up even. Somehow, it’d gotten its wheels under control and made it through the turn to match Joe. Now even with him, the driver turned to look at Joe and wave, before gunning the engine to higher speeds, and crossing the finish line with a half car length to spare. 

Joe was stunned. He slowed to a stop and before long Andy was tapping on his window. He rolled it down and fumbled with his helmet as Andy began speaking.

“That was great Joe- the cleanest run you’ve had! It was 5:15 on the dot, would’ve been a course record if the Spyder didn’t jilt you at the last minute.” 

She ruffled his hair through the window. 

“Yeah, who the hell is that guy?” Joe asked irritably. They both looked over to where the white Spyder was parked just down the road. The head of the circuit was speaking with the driver through the window. 

“I asked around but no one knows, he must be new on the scene. If he can drive like that though, he has to have a record somewhere. We’ll put Booker on it.” 

“Yeah,” Joe muttered, watching as the circuit head straightened and the Spyder drove away. “If I’m losing I’d at least like to know who it is.” 

Andy laughed at him.

“You’ve always been such a sore loser.” 

“I don’t like people messing with what’s mine,” Joe stated simply. Andy just shrugged. 

“It’s about time someone gave you a run for your money. Come on, let’s get you loaded back up.” 


	3. Bad Metaphors and Worse Timing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At least it wasn't Nile interrupting this time. In Booker's defense, the stakes have been raised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for your comments and kudos!! Also thank you thank you to my wonderful beta reader fruityUndertaker for taking it in stride when I message that I just wrote >5000 words that they now need to read lmao. 
> 
> (That being said, the next few chapters are written so I should be able to stay with the two day update schedule.)
> 
> Your comments have been great and I've even added in some of y'all's takes in this and the next chapters! 
> 
> As always, let me know what y'all think;)

Several days later, Joe sat in the waiting room with Booker, watching Real Madrid versus Leganes on the TV in the corner. It was a Sunday, which meant that the shop was technically closed. It was also closed on Mondays so they could have a day to catch up on longer term projects without new orders coming in, but Sundays they were supposed to take completely off. Instead, they would lounge around the shop and work at a leisurely pace. Maybe their lack of lives outside of the shop should be worrying, but it worked for them. 

The TV was nestled in the corner of two walls primarily made of windows. One side looked out to the shop, where Andy was working on her truck, and the other looked into the parking lot out front. Nile sat at the counter opposite that wall, doing coursework and watching the game intermittently. 

“Booker what the hell does this verse mean?” Nile asked, frustration evident in her voice.

Booker didn’t look away from the TV.

“I don’t know.”

Nile looked at him, her lips pursed and an eyebrow up.

“You’re the one who told me to take a literature gen ed, so you’re going to be the one that helps me get an A.” 

Booker looked helplessly at Joe, who shrugged.

“She has a point.” 

“Traitor.” With a dramatic groan Booker got up and went over to read the prose over Nile’s shoulder. Joe watched him go, thinking back to years ago now, when they’d first found Booker. He and Andy had still been coasting on autopilot after Quynh’s death. Booker had wandered over to the shop, blind drunk one night, and Joe had hauled him in to spend the night on the waiting room couch. The next morning Booker took one look at their outdated technology and accounts and decided to stay. Later, the truth of his story would come out over hazy summer nights with too much wine and damp winter days over bitter coffee. 

He had been getting his doctorate in literature with hopes of becoming a professor when he came home one night to find his family gone and divorce papers on the table. A few months later, his youngest son died in a car accident and his wife didn’t even let him attend the funeral. That, more than anything else, had broken him. 

Nile was good for him, Joe thought absently. She was young and bright. Willing to put up with Booker’s moods but not letting him drown too deeply in them. She joined the shop her first year of university and by winter break she was a part of the family, filling in gaps Joe hadn’t even realized were there. 

“Were we supposed to have a drop-off today?” Nile asked, forcing Joe out of his thoughts. 

“I didn’t think so,” Booker replied, not looking up from Nile’s book as he puzzled over whatever was on the page. Joe followed Nile’s gaze out the front windows, to where a 1968 Alfa Romeo 33 Stradale was pulling into a parking space. It was painted a beautiful racing red, but even from this distance the wheels, headlight caps, and other small parts were clearly in need of some refurbishment.

“Wow,” Joe exhaled. Behind him, Booker whistled, impressed. 

“Who wants to tell them we’re closed?” Booker jokes. No sooner was the sentence out of his mouth before Nicky was stepping out of the driver’s side, unfolding from the low car like a movie star. He was wearing dark sunglasses and a soft green button down and dark jeans. Joe stood up. 

“Oh my God Booker that’s him!” Nile exclaimed.

“That’s the Italian sculpture? Huh.” 

“Yes! Joe, you have to go out and help him.” But Nile was too late as Andy strode out of the garage to intercept Nicky before he could take a step towards the office. 

“You better get your boy, Joe.” Booker was smirking behind the counter, and it only grew into a grin as Joe flipped him off and pulled open the door. Nile offered him two enthusiastic thumbs up. 

_Completely useless_ , he thought to himself on his way to Nicky. 

“-saying that Joe told you-?” Andy was saying, but Nicky’s eyes flicked to Joe over her shoulder, and Andy turned to face him. He had taken off his sunglasses, and Joe was caught again by his eyes, offering him a warm but private smile. 

“Joe,” Andy said, nodding towards Nicky. “He said that you gave him the okay to drop off today?” 

Joe had done no such thing, but agreeing to the lie was much easier than embarrassing himself by asking Andy to let him stay.

“Yeah, yeah I did. Andy, meet Nicky, the Stratos owner. Nicky, this is the boss, Andy.” 

“I own the garage,” Andy added, tone shifting completely now that she knew who the man was. She offered Nicky a hand to shake. Joe weirdly felt like his older sister was evaluating his homecoming date. 

Nicky took the proffered hand with a small smile, different from the one he’d given Joe just moments before. 

“Nice to meet you. I was so impressed with Joe’s work last time that I just had to come back.” 

“He is good with his hands,” Andy agreed, and Joe fought to keep his expression neutral. Andy was the worst. “I’ll leave you two to work it out. Nice to meet you Nicky.” 

Nicky was grinning for real this time as she walked away. 

“She seems nice,” he said, amused.

“Don’t let it fool you,” Joe muttered, stepping forward as Nicky leaned back against the car. They were facing each other, and Nicky smiled at him again. 

_His cheekbones are unreal, how did I not notice that last time?_ Joe thought to himself. 

They just looked at each other for a moment, but it wasn’t awkward. Rather, Joe felt that part of himself that sometimes ached with longing begin to fill with excitement. 

“So what can I do for you this time?” Joe asked, burying his hands in his jean pockets. It was August, and the first cool front had blown in earlier that day. Nicky nodded to the car that he was leaning against.

“As I’m sure you can see, she needs some love.” Joe nodded in agreement and began circling around the car to take note of what updates were needed. Nicky didn’t follow but moved to stay facing him as he listed off the needed improvements. 

“I can take care of all of that,” Joe assured him, now on the other side of the car. “But I’ll need to order some of the parts so it might take some time.”

“Slow doesn’t bother me, especially if the product is one as beautiful as this.” Nicky placed his crossed arms on top of the car, his eyes twinkling. He was clearly not only talking about the car.

“Well, it shouldn’t take that long.” Joe stepped forward and mirrored Nicky’s position. “Sometimes you just have to check that all parties are on the same page.” He grinned slowly and reached over to fiddle with the end of Nicky’s shirt, which had come unbuttoned. “In terms of ordering parts I mean.” 

“Of course,” Nicky whispered, looking down at Joe’s hand before returning Joe’s grin with that small smile that he seemed to reserve for Joe. 

“Would you- would you want to get a coffee?” Joe asked. Nicky carefully covered his hand with his own, stilling its fiddling. 

“I would love to.” He squeezed Joe’s hand. “But I can’t today.” 

“Yeah that’s totally fine!” Joe could feel himself smiling happily and hoped that his eyes didn’t expose how overly excited and relieved he was. “I have a pretty flexible schedule-”

“Joe!” Before he could finish, Booker interrupted him from the front door. Nicky removed his hand and Joe tried not to mourn the loss. “They announced the prix, you and Andy need to leave now if you’re going to make it on time.” 

“Fuck,” Joe cursed under his breath and he heard Nicky snort. “Be there in five Book!” Booker gave him a thumbs up and nodded awkwardly at Nicky before disappearing back inside. Joe straightened up and Nicky looked at him questioningly. 

“Prix?” 

“Yeah,” Joe rubbed the back of his neck. “We, um, we race cars in our free time and the two prix races are the biggest of the year. The first one is always a surprise because it's an open entry. The first five racers to finish are allowed into the second race.” 

Nicky made his way around the car to Joe, eyebrows knit together in either disapproval or confusion.

“Is that not dangerous?” _Disapproval, then._

“Yeah, and kind of illegal too.” Joe took his hand again, taking the opportunity to actually fix his cuff. “Is that a problem?” Joe didn’t look up, focusing on the small buttons, his heart in his throat. Nicky made a noncommittal noise.

“Only if you get hurt.” Joe looked back up to see that Nicky had been watching him intently. Joe smiled cockily, covering for the summersaults his heart decided to do. He was about to deliver a clever retort when Andy’s truck honked from the garage. 

“I have to go. You can leave the keys with Nile and she’ll pull it around. You have a way to get home?” 

Nicky just laughed and pushed Joe softly towards the garage.

“Go. Drive safe.” Joe darted in to kiss him on the cheek. Nicky blushed and Joe drank in the sight as he jogged backwards to the garage, a wide grin on his face. He waved before getting into the truck, and Nicky gave him a small wave back. Andy pulled out and although Joe couldn’t see it, Nicky waited to go inside until the truck was out of sight. 

The bell jingled as he entered, and the beautiful Black woman, Nile, the one who interrupted him and Joe last time, looked up from a book. He smiled at her, and she grinned at him in return. 

“You are Nile, yes?” 

“That’s me!” 

“Joe asked me to drop these off with you.” He placed the keys on the counter. “Do you have something to write with? I realized I forgot to give Joe my number before leaving so that he can message me about the car.”

Nile did a bad job hiding her smile, her tone doubtful about the truth of his reasoning.

“Sure thing.” She grabbed the keys and slid across one of her notecards and the pen she had been using. “I’m going to move the car real quick.” She slid off the stool as Nicky wrote a note for Joe. As the bell over the door jingled with Nile’s exit, the man that had come out earlier walked out of the back. He looked surprised to see Nicky, probably expecting Nile, but hid it quickly. 

“So you're the Stratos owner?” Booker asked conversationally, leaning against the door frame behind the counter. Nicky finished his note and folded it, writing Joe’s name on the top.

“I was just borrowing it for a little while,” he replied, sticking the note in Nile’s book. Booker hummed. 

“Can I ask you where they are going? Would not a street race be late at night?” Booker nodded.

“Yeah it normally is, but this one is starting early because it’ll be so long. Starting point is in Springfield and they’ll be racing all the way back here. Nile’s joining too, but they just need to pick up the cars first and Nile hasn’t finished her schoolwork yet.” 

Nicky’s eyebrows rose and Booker smiled, agreeing with his facial expression. 

“Do you want to stick around or-” Nicky was already pulling out his phone, pulling up a rideshare app.

“Thank you but no, I have somewhere to be.”

Booker nodded and they said goodbye. Nicky waved at Nile in the garage and wished her luck on his way to the pickup spot. She thanked him as his ride pulled up. 

“Could you stop by a coffee shop?” Nicky asked once inside. 

“Busy evening plans?” The driver asked.

“Something like that.”


	4. The Longest Race

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joe's temper almost gets the best of him, but his heart does instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi folks!! Excited to post this one b/c it's basically all race haha. Also, yes the title is a "Longest Yard" reference. 
> 
> Full warning my work has picked up a lot so I'm doing my best to keep up with updates but if it's delayed that's why! 
> 
> I hope you like it!

It’s well past dark by the time he, Andy, and Nile made it to the race’s start point. He and Andy rode in the truck with the attached trailer, while Nile followed behind in her car. It was also a Camaro, but less updated and specialized. She was a college student first after all. Joe and Andy had spent the drive on speakerphone with Nile, discussing the newly posted route and strategizing. It would be a long race, just over 300 miles, most of it on backroads that wound dangerously through hills and canyons. 

This was a race that Joe and his Camaro were particularly well suited for. Long reaches and tight curves were perfect for his handling skills, and very difficult on less experienced drivers. His car, while not able to kick the way the Spyder had last week, would be able to keep up over the long stretches and gain on the curves and corners. 

Nile’s lack of experience would be her biggest hurdle in this race. Having to be mentally focused for so long was taxing on even the most experienced drivers, so they agreed that Nile would stick behind Joe as much as possible, using his draft to ease through the corners and stay focused. 

Joe was nervous, but not because of the race. He’d texted Nicky after Nile had given him Nicky’s note, but he had yet to receive a reply. It was silly because Nicky had already agreed to get coffee with him, but Joe was nervous all the same. 

_ Hey Nicky, it’s Joe. Coffee at Delilah's tomorrow at one? _ Joe reread the message six or seven times before sending it. He could feel Andy look at him as he checked his phone yet again. 

“Joe,” she started, and he rolled his eyes, interrupting her before she could say anything more.

“I know Andy, I need to focus.” She was quiet for a moment. 

“You really like him, don’t you?” Joe sighed and looked out the window.

“I know it doesn’t make sense, we haven’t met but twice. But yeah, yeah I really do.” Andy hummed in understanding.

“Quynh and I moved in together after five days.” That startled a laugh out of Joe; she hadn’t mentioned Quynh of her own volition in years. 

“No way, you never told me that.” She nodded slowly, a small smile tugging at her mouth, never taking her eyes off the road.

“Yeah, we were so gone on each other we didn’t want to waste any time. I was practically living with her the week leading up to that anyways. I don’t think we spent more than a few hours apart after meeting. We were so desperate to see each other again. She inspired something in me, something I’d never felt before.”

“Like a piece clicked into place,” Joe supplied, turning away from Andy to look out the window. “Like something inside of you has finally settled.” 

“Yeah, yeah exactly like that.” Andy agreed, and was quiet for a moment before speaking again. “All I’m saying is that if you think you’ve found that, I’m happy for you. Don’t let it go.” 

Joe looked at Andy, consideringly. They had been through so much together, yet expressing emotion remained something that Andy struggled with. 

“Thanks boss, I won’t.” 

\---

For once in their racing careers, they were early. Andy was pulling the Camaro out of the trailer while Nile and Joe watched, when one of their racing friends approached them. They were in their typical all black with shoulder length black hair and dark eyeliner under their eyes. They greeted each other warmly, and Joe introduced Nile.    
  


“Y’all ready for this one? Heard there are twenty plus people planning to come out.”    
  


“That many?” Joe asked, surprised. The prix races were easily the biggest of the year, but twenty made for a crowded field. 

“Yeah, surprised me too. The betting pool is that much bigger of course, but still, I don’t like the idea of racing with so many others. Glad it’s y’all and not me.” 

Andy came up to catch the end of that statement, having parked the Camaro next to Nile’s green one. 

“What’s that?”

“Izod here was just saying that over twenty people could be racing tonight,” Joe recapped, taking a sip of his coffee. Andy didn’t look surprised. 

“The prix has been gaining attention. We’ll have to keep an eye out for cops.” 

The small group fell into a somber silence for a moment. 

“Well either way, I’m sure you won’t be staying with the main group long, will you Joe?” Izod joked. “Between you and that white Spyder, the rest of us are competing for podium.” Joe perked up.

“You’ve seen it too? Is he coming tonight?” 

“Joe lost his first race in years to him last week,” Andy explained to Izod, who nodded in understanding with a teasing twinkle in their eye. 

“I see, looking for a bit of revenge are we?” They didn’t wait for Joe to respond before continuing. “But I don’t know, my sources aren’t sure if he’ll make a showing tonight.”

“Do you know who he is?” Nile asked. “We tried to find background on him but came up blank.” 

Izod shook their head. 

“Same on our end. All I know is that a white Spyder has been wrecking races all over the area for the past few weeks. Never stays to chat, but then again, what we’re doing is pretty damn illegal so that shouldn’t be too surprising.” 

“It still never hurts to be friendly,” Joe objected.

“Being friendly with you got me here,” Nile reminded him with a grin. 

“And you’re only breaking a few laws, we put you in the safest league money can buy!” Joe defended himself. The group laughed and Izod excused themself.

“Best of luck, though if these two have been coaching you, you probably won’t need it,” they told Nile before ambling back to their team. 

“Close to starting time,” Andy noted, and the three of them pulled together, already getting their heads into the race. “Remember,” Andy said quietly, “this is a long track, but getting out of your headspace will slow you down or get you killed. I’ll be following by freeway but there will be points when you’ll be out of my range. Nile, stay close as you can to Joe and stay focused. Your goal isn’t to win, it’s to rank. Joe, don’t do anything stupid if that Spyder shows up.” 

Nile glanced at Joe and knocked their shoulders together as Joe shot Andy a rueful glance. The trio broke up — Andy to her truck, and Joe and Nile to their cars. While they’d been chatting, more cars had shown up to run the race and Izod was right; there were well over twenty cars pulling up to the starting lane. With races this size, the officials would let the cars go in heats of five and follow the times to determine who would come out on top and advance to the next race. 

Andy had put them in the last heat. During a normal race, this would have been the worst positioning because of how many cars they’d have to pass, but in a race of this length it would keep them awake and alert. Judging from his surrounding competitors, Joe would be passing a lot of people tonight. 

This start was not nearly as dramatic as the last one had been. They were lined up on the two lane highway and released in groups, their race time not starting until they passed where the highway widened out into four lanes. He and Nile were lucky; their final group had only two other cars in it. 

In the time it took for the first groups to go, Joe took the opportunity to sink into his calm headspace. The pre-race adrenaline thrummed through his body and he fought to control it through deep breaths. He thought of emotive green eyes and that smile that was only ever aimed at him, and his heart rate slowed. He didn’t let himself get off track with thoughts that he should only be excited by that smile, not calmed by it, or that he was jumping into the deep end too fast. Instead he let his heart and mind do what they did naturally when thinking of Nicky: settle and focus. 

Then, just when everything inside him stilled, something came up out of the corner of his eye. 

The white  _ fucking _ Spyder. 

Pulling up to the start at the last minute just like last time, it idled a car length behind him in his lane. Joe rolled down his window and gestured at Nile, pointing behind him. She glanced and in his helmet he heard her say,    
  
“That’s him?”

“Who?” Andy asked. She must have gone back to the truck, prepared to follow their winding route via the straight highway that ran adjacent to it.

“The fucking white Spyder just pulled into our heat,” Joe said through his teeth, his calm shattered. He usually could keep his cool, but he was very, very competitive and  _ hated _ losing. Losing to someone he didn’t know just made it worse. 

“Keep your head, Yusuf,” Andy warned him. 

Joe swore and rolled his window back up. 

“Way to follow direction,” Andy replied sarcastically. 

There was no time to reassess; the pacer car started forward and he and Nile followed. By the time they hit the expansion into four lanes, they were going over eighty miles an hour. 

“Nile stick behind me, we’re going to outrun the other two on this first stretch,” Joe said into the headset. She slowed and got behind him as she replied.

“And the Spyder?”

“He’s about to outrun us,” he responded grimly. 

True to his prediction, the second Nile cleared her lane, the Spyder went zipping through, and Joe accelerated to match. They had an easy twenty miles to put space between them and their heat, while catching up to the next. 

“Hopefully we’ll hit the dregs of the other heat before getting into the turns,” Joe reminded Nile. 

“We have had this conversation twice,” she reminded him. 

Joe didn’t respond, entirely focused on the Spyder as it gradually outpaced them minute to minute. Speed was important in street racing, but the imperfections of the road and lack of wind protection made going fast difficult and very dangerous. It made handling all the more important. 

Within minutes, they exited the highway and veered onto the first of many backroads, this one barely two lanes wide. Joe saw the watcher at the exit, but he’d been told that they were using air surveillance from this point until they reached the city. The first set of curves came quickly, and they passed three cars single file from the heat in front of them. 

In this sort of race, Joe could tail the Spyder and overcome him on the curve, but he had Nile with him, so he didn’t want to risk it without trying other strategies first. The three of them mirrored each other around the tight switchbacks, slowly but surely making their way up in altitude. By the time they reached the next straightaway, a two mile stretch through a valley, Joe was already frustrated with the Spyder’s slow handling around the complex elements of the race.

Joe’s jaw ached from clenching his teeth already. This was going to be a very long race.

\---

Nile and Joe were tapping their toes at a mostly abandoned gas station outside of the city. Every car would need to refuel before finishing the race, but the agonizing wait still felt too long. The Spyder had continued, but Joe knew it was even lower on gas than they were. The three of them had spent the entire race in a single line, streaming down backroads and racing around curves, passing eighteen of their competitors. 

“I know you can beat him Joe! Let me do what I can do and just overtake him.”

  
“If that goes wrong it’s not me going off the side, it’s you,” Joe shot back, making the same point he’d already made several times since they’d stopped. Nile was right; Joe knew that he could get ahead of the Spyder and stay there. Only two stretches of open road were left: an exhausting series of turns, stoplights, and curves, all of which Joe excelled at and would cause the Spyder to lose speed. The issue with that, of course, was that Joe would need to execute a dangerous maneuver in order to pull ahead of the Spyder while he had the room on the country curves. 

Andy, who was leaning against her truck that she had already refueled, had just been watching them silently until now. 

“Joe, pass the Spyder and win it, Nile can take care of herself.” 

Joe looked out over the dark countryside, his jaw ticking. He looked to Nile, serious.

“Are you sure?”

Nile nodded while Andy continued.

“You’ve been off since you started this race. Maybe winning will get you back on track. Either way, first gets us the bigger purse and that’s what you’re going to do.” Andy had her coach voice on, and it brokered no argument. The gas pump tinged, signaling that the engines were full. Joe sighed and cracked his neck.

“Yes boss.” 

\---

“Nile, back off. If there’s room behind me gun it but if not, no need to be a hero.” 

“You got it.”

Nile’s headlights shrank in his rearview as she gave him a few car lengths to maneuver. They were on the last straightaway of the race; the next set of rural switchbacks led to difficult city turns that the wide nose and frame of the Spyder would have trouble with. 

These curves were two lanes and could fit two cars going at high speeds if they worked in concert, but Joe was willing to bet the Spyder didn’t know that. If he did, the Spyder probably wouldn’t be able to execute the move and would flip off the side of the road. 

As the first curve came into view, Joe kept his speed while the Spyder began to brake, pulling up next to him. He could see the lights of the dashboard reflecting off the driver’s helmet, but that’s all he could take in before he had to refocus on the job ahead. 

The Spyder wasn’t slowing. 

Joe waited until the last possible second, but it was clear the Spyder intended to take this turn side by side. Joe hit the clutch and pulled the emergency brake and together they slid into the turn, their tires spinning wildly as they sought purchase on the tarmac and the space between their cars was reduced to mere inches. 

Joe felt time slow as they rounded the corner together, in what he was sure was a beautiful sight.

He slammed back into gear with a painful crunch and swore as the Spyder kept with him. The next turn he was on the inside corner, forced to slow just barely more than the Spyder at the last minute, but the Spyder slowed with him, clearly trying to stay in sync with Joe’s maneuvering.

_ Well that was a mistake, _ Joe thought triumphantly as he came out of the switchback with a foot lead on the white car. It tried to make up the ground, but the tide had turned. Foot by foot Joe advanced on the switchbacks down into the city. By the time they emerged into the urban area he was a full car length ahead. 

In the last ten minutes of the race Joe managed to add a full city block of length between them, grinning in triumph before he even crossed the finish line. One he did, firmly downtown, he screeched to a stop and hopped out of the car immediately. The Spyder pulled past but stopped. Joe flipped him off triumphantly and added a wink just because he could before Andy barrelled into him. He lifted her off the ground and spun, laughing happily. In his pocket, his phone finally chimed. 

_ Hey Joe, tomorrow at one would be perfect. _

Joe’s smile grew even wider as he replied.

_ Can’t wait <3 _


	5. It's a Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joe and Nicky finally get their date!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO sorry that this chapter is late! Work was crazy so I finished the chapter late and fruityUndertaker was a doll getting this beta done. In my defense- it's a bit of a longer chapter so there's that haha. 
> 
> I switch to Nicky's POV for part of the chapter so lmk what you think!

Joe’s alarm rang at such a frequency he was sure the dogs that lived in the apartment below him could hear it. He pawed blindly around on his bedside table, finally shutting it up with a slam of his palm. Outside, the dark of night was just beginning to lighten into the predawn grey. He groaned and rubbed his eyes, allowing himself a moment of self-hatred for his late night habits before rolling out of bed.

_ I get to see Nicky today. _ That thought had him more awake than he’d thought possible with a mere three hours of sleep. There was so much he wanted to learn about Nicky, so much he wanted to ask. Did he take his coffee with cream and sugar? What were his thoughts on V4 engines versus V6? Did his eyes always look like sea foam or was that just in the sunlight?

_ Well maybe I’ll keep that one to myself, _ he thought ruefully as he washed his hands and ran them through his beard. It wasn’t too long yet, but it might be due for a trim. 

Joe took deep breaths as he laid out his sajjāda. Salat al-fajr was his favorite prayer of the day, and he relished the opportunity to connect and ground himself. He stood facing east and prepared himself before the imam began. 

_ There is no use in praying if you are not ready to pray.  _ He could hear his mother now, her Arabic familiar in his mind.  _ It is like standing before Allah with better things to do. There is no better thing than to stand before Allah.  _

He consciously took each emotion and let it go with his exhale. Nervousness, exhaustion, excitement, and something he could not name were held and released. Prepared, he tuned into the livestream of the mosque he attended and turned his thoughts to Allah. 

\---

Nicky double checked the address on his phone. Joe’s text had said Delihla’s, but what he was parked in front of looked far more like a bookstore than a cafe. He supposed that it could be both — a small sign in the front window did say coffee, but he wanted to be sure. It was a cute building, 1910’s American architecture but painted lilac with royal purple trim. The door was a nice shade of green that was reflected by the plants hanging in the windows. At last, he got out of his car, this one a black Alfa Romeo 4C Spider, and entered the shop.

Inside it was dim but not dark, the stacks of books crowding into already narrow walkways. It was bigger than it looked from the outside, and the entire first floor was filled with books. On his right, a staircase led up to a half-story where he could smell coffee and baked goods. He ascended the old stairs slowly. The second floor had been made into a coffeehouse, aided by an entire back wall of windows that allowed sunlight to pour in the space. Greenery was hung from every corner, including the coffee bar that was against the wall he was standing by. Pastries sat in tidy rows in their glass case on the bar, which also held an old fashioned register. The wall behind the bar was mirrored, adding to the room’s illusion of depth. 

Comfortable looking couches and armchairs were scattered through the place as well as a few small tables, and one that looked large enough for a dining room. His eyes found Joe, at last, at one of the small round tables in the corner. He was sprawled in his chair, sketching in a black notebook that he held steady in his hand. A spare charcoal pencil sat on the table next to a cup of coffee. The light from the window made his dark hair shine in a halo around his head. If Nicky listened hard enough, he was sure that he could hear the choir of angels. 

Rousing himself, Nicky finally moved towards the table, and Joe looked up as he drew closer. Nicky found himself returning Joe’s smile with one of his own because, really, how could one not respond to a smile like that? Feeling bold, he swept in to kiss Joe on the cheek, and he thought he heard the other man inhale softly. 

“I did not know you drew,” he said as he settled into the chair across from Joe. The other man was wearing a soft blue long sleeve that hugged his arms and chest in a way that invited sin. Nicky forced himself to look away, but meeting Joe’s dark eyes wasn’t much easier. 

Joe gave a small smile and flipped the book around, showing Nicky the very scene he had just taken in. 

“You are very good,” Nicky complimented him.

“Thanks.” Joe tucked the pencil into the book and put it on the table. “Just something I do to pass the time.” 

A college-aged woman came up to take Nicky’s order, then left them in peace soon after delivering his cappuccino. 

“That’s one of the best parts about this place,” Joe told him with a conspiratorial smile. “It’s staffed by college students, so they’re too busy working to bother you.” 

True to his observation, when Nicky looked over at the bar, the young woman was buried deep in a textbook. 

“Your coworker, Nile, she is in college?” 

“Yes! More like a sister than coworker though. She’s studying engineering.”

“Oh,” Nicky let his confusion show as he took a sip of his drink. It was remarkably good. “I thought she was studying literature the last time I was in the shop?”

Joe was nodding before he’d even finished. A faint blush colored his cheeks as he leaned his elbows on the table. Nicky felt drawn in. 

  
“Yes well that’s Booker and my fault. Booker was educated in literature and well I, I just love poetry, so when she needed a gen ed credit we promised to help her. Booker was the main lobbyist behind that action though,” he defended himself. Nicky smiled and leaned onto the table top as well, mirroring Joe’s posture.

“Were you educated in poetry?” 

“Not in the way Booker was. Poetry was just a part of my culture. Our history, songs... everything.” 

Nicky could listen to him speak for days he realized, and was not entirely unhappy with the prospect. 

“And here?”

Joe’s eyes flickered up to his. 

“Here I tend to need inspiration.” 

Nicky hummed in understanding and broke eye contact to look out over the room. 

“And do your cars give you inspiration?” he asked teasingly. 

“Sometimes.” Joe nodded. “Sometimes it’s the people in them.” 

And well that wasn’t really fair, was it? Despite his claims to the contrary, Joe had poetry mastered in whatever form he chose to use it in Nicky’s opinion. 

He only exhaled and gave Joe a smile for his answer. Joe smiled back. 

“Your cars are certainly worthy of poems. Are you a collector?” Nicky was selfishly glad that Joe had decided to move on to lighter conversation — he wasn’t sure how much wooing his heart could take. He made a dismissive noise and waved a hand carelessly. 

“No, they are not mine.” He elaborated quickly at Joe’s confused look: “I am a stunt driver, for films. They let me borrow cars from the lot and when our head mechanic quit, they let me decide where to take them for maintenance since I am the one driving. Your shop was suggested by Merrick, our producer. He’s friends with someone named Copley who swore by it. I see now that he was right.” 

“Oh Copley! He helps us get specialized parts for good prices. I hadn’t realized he dabbled in film too.” He took a sip of his drink. “So you don’t just collect pretty cars, you know how to drive them.”

“I can do tricks,” Nicky responded, modest.

“Yeah sure, you can probably out race me.”

_ Actually, we're one for one,  _ Nicky thought. He had agonized over telling Joe that they’d met more times than he knew, that he was the driver of the white Spyder, but this was so new that he’d been worried about jeopardizing what little of a relationship they had. He supposed that he would have to eventually — he couldn’t just keep stealing cars off the lot forever and, unlike Joe, his racing car was his only car. 

_ The final prix race, I’ll tell him after that, _ he reasoned to himself.  _ That way we race each other fairly. _

“Want to bet?” Nicky replied playfully.

Joe laughed, and Lord, Nicky could spend the next century or ten trying to get him to laugh that way again. He felt the little hollow space under his ribs begin to fill with something soft and  _ right. _

“You’re on.” 

“How did your race last night go?” He asked carefully. Joe smiled widely.

“Great! I got back at a driver who managed to beat me last week.” Nicky hid his smile.

“I take it you do not lose often?” 

“I hadn’t lost in... well I guess I don’t remember the last time I lost actually.”

“So this, perhaps this other driver, is a test,” Nicky couldn’t help but to push. Joe looked unimpressed. “You do not think so?” 

Joe waved his hand. 

“No, no, you may be right. I just hadn’t thought of it that way. I really hate losing, but I hate not knowing who I’m losing to even more.” Something nasty twisted in Nicky’s gut. Perhaps he should never tell him. Buy a new car. That was something a reasonable person would do, right?

Joe misinterpreted Nicky’s close inspection of his cappuccino cup. 

“But that’s a lot about me,” he said hurriedly, “I have about a million questions to ask you.” 

Nicky laughed at Joe’s exaggeration. 

“Well I have all afternoon.” 

\---

They talked for hours: through another cup of coffee, and through the tired college woman being replaced by an equally tired college man. Eventually, they were interrupted by Joe’s phone ringing, Andy on the other end to remind him that he had promised to have the Corvette done by five. 

“I’ll actually probably have your car done sometime tomorrow. If you come around six we could get dinner?” Joe asked hopefully as he shrugged on the black leather jacket from the back of his seat. Nicky was nodding before he’d even finished speaking. 

“I would love to.” They bussed their table and trotted down the stairs into the parking lot. Joe whistled when he saw what Nicky was driving, impressed. 

“I guess dating you comes with perks,” he quipped, his heart stuttering to a stop for a moment. He turned to gauge the other man’s reaction. Nicky, the bastard, had a smug smile on his face as he shrugged. 

“I like to think that I come in a close second.” Joe’s heart started again, feeling lighter at Nicky’s quiet confirmation of their relationship. Nicky stepped down from the curb and took Joe’s hand. “Is one of your perks a discount at the shop?” 

Joe flushed, thinking back to Nile’s teasing. He looked down at his shoe, scuffing it lightly.

“You might already be a beneficiary of that discount,” he muttered.

“Joe,” Nicky murmured, and he looked up. Nicky was looking at him intently and his eyes flickered down to his lips. Joe really didn’t need more of an invitation than that. He leaned forward to close the last few inches between them, his hands floating up of their own accord to cup Nicky’s face. He could feel Nicky’s hands settle on his waist as he kissed him, and it felt as if  _ this _ was what his body had been made to do. This was Allah’s purpose for him, to love and hold this man and to be loved and held by him in return. 

It was a chaste kiss, and over too soon. Though, Joe was certain that a thousand years spent kissing Nicky would be over too soon. 

“Nicky.” Joe pressed their foreheads together, hands still cradling his face. After a moment they drew apart and smiled at each other.

“Go,” Nicky said at last. “You have to work.” 

“It’s fine, my boss knows I’m on a date with this beautiful guy I like.” Nicky huffed and rolled his eyes.

“Yes well this ‘beautiful guy’ would like to stay on your boss’ good side.” Joe brushed it off and reluctantly started to walk back to his own car. 

“Yeah but she’s secretly a teddy bear.” 

“I’m telling her you said that!”

“She’d agree!” 

Joe waved one more time and got into his car, his grinning mouth still warm with the memory of Nicky’s. 

\---

It was only five o’clock when Joe saw the car Nicky had driven to their date yesterday pull into the shop’s lot. He was showing Nile how to properly change the oil of a little known German brand when he saw the car pull in.

“Why is Nicky here?” Nile asked, following his gaze.

“How’d you know it was Nicky?” Joe asked, looking for his hand towel and finding it tucked into his back pocket. 

“He only drives Italian cars.” Nile looked at him like it was obvious, which Joe supposed it was now that he thought about it. He had just been too distracted by the driver to notice. 

“Huh. You good to finish up?” 

“Yeah, go tend to your man.” Joe rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything as he walked out of the garage towards Nicky, who was getting out of the car. The group had had to listen to Joe wax endlessly about their date and subsequent kiss last night, so he supposed some ribbing was a fair trade. 

“Hey, you’re early.” Joe smiled all the same. “I’d give you a kiss but I’m all greasy.” He gestured to himself, currently in coveralls and a tank top, both of which were by no means clean. Nicky’s eyes twinkled as he hooked his hand into the front pocket of the coveralls, reeling him in. 

“I am not worried about a little grease.” He kissed him soundly, more firmly than the day before, and Joe fought to not melt into it. Nicky may not be worried about grease, but Joe knew how annoying it was to get those stains out. 

“I am sorry that I’m early, but I’ve been called out to a job and need to return the 33 to the lot before I go.” 

“Oh.” Joe’s disappointment tasted flat on his tongue. “So no dinner?” 

“Not tonight, but it will happen when I get back, I promise.” Nicky brushed Joe’s cheek softly. “I’m sorry.” 

“No!” Joe objected. “It’s not your fault! Where are you going?” 

“Canada, just for a few days. I’ll be back before you know it.” He paused and reached back into the car. “Um, I bought you something for while I’m gone.” 

Joe didn’t bother to hide his smile. Nicky looked slightly nervous as he took out a book. 

“I would have wrapped it before coming, but I just got the call to leave so-” Nicky shrugged and handed it to him. 

It was a dark brown leather bound volume, thin but not overly so. Gold stamped vines twined around the edges. Joe opened it and the spine creaked with disuse. It was poetry, Italian poetry, with the translation on the right and original script on the left. Some of the pages had a sticky note on them. 

“Nicky... Nicky, this is beautiful.” Joe looked up at him. The other man was smiling and watching his expression. Joe kissed him. “Thank you.” 

“Of course. The notes are some of my favorites. I thought we could talk about them when I get back.” 

“I would love that.” 

Nicky rubbed the back of his neck and smiled shyly. Joe leaned in to kiss him again. 

“Let me pull your car around.” Joe held the book tight to his chest as he went to grab the 33’s keys and bring it around. 

_ This man is going to be the death of me,  _ he thought as he gently put the book on a clean portion of his workbench. He looked back to Nicky, who was leaning against the trunk of his car, hands comfortably in his pockets. In the light he looked like a knight of old, waiting for his steed to be brought from the stables. Joe shook his head. 

_ But oh what a way to go. _


	6. A Sweet Lie and a Bitter Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A family outing turns sour when Joe realizes what Nicky's hobbies really are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!!! I am SO sorry this chapter took so long, I had a really difficult time with finding the right tone and I totally forgot that my beta was out of pocket for a few days. BUT we workshopped and got it done! As always, a million thanks to fruityUndertaker for undertaking (get it?) this project.

Joe ripped his helmet off the second the car was in park, tossing it carelessly into the passenger seat. He gave himself the twenty seconds it took for Andy to come knocking on his door to cuss angrily in every language he knew. He rolled down the window.

“Want to explain yourself?” 

“He wasn’t here Andy!” 

“So you’re going to let him throw you off your game when he’s here  _ and _ when he’s gone?” She straightened and Joe could see Nile heading towards them. “Pull yourself together and be happy for Nile, will you?”

Joe allowed himself another quick moment to sulk before leaving the car. Andy was right; this Spyder was way too in his head. They were at a filler race before the final prixand Nile had just won handily. Joe, meanwhile, had bungled the start waiting for a certain white Spyder to show up. The Spyder never appeared, and Joe hadn’t been able to get his head on straight for the rest of the race. 

Joe shook his head to dispel his frustration. He wasn’t mad at Nile by a long shot, but losing for such a stupid and obvious reason was even more embarrassing and frustrating than losing normally was. Also, Nile was really shaping up to be a magnificent driver, and Joe would probably have to get used to trading between first and second with her more often. 

“Nile! You dominated!” he exclaimed as he walked towards the younger woman, who beamed proudly. 

“That’s how we do it!” she replied with a laugh as Joe picked her up and spun her around. 

“Hell yeah.” He sat her down, giving Andy a rueful smile and Booker a side hug. 

“Maybe soon I’ll beat you when you’re not busy pining after an absent Italian,” Nile mocked,and Joe put a hand to his chest, pretending to be affronted. 

“I’ll have you know that I am not  _ pining _ , I am... romantically missing the absent Italian.” Nile and the others laughed. “Who has a name by the way? You’ve met him?” 

“But he hasn’t met us as a  _ family _ ” Andy shot in.  “That’s a good point boss,” Booker agreed. “When are you going to bring him to family dinner?” 

“Well,” Joe drew the sound out, obfuscating. “He’s out of town, and this week’s family dinner is about Nile’s victory.” 

“Hear, hear,” Booker agreed, and the group’s discussion was diverted by racing friends coming to offer their congratulations and chat. Joe took the opportunity to check his phone. 

_ Good luck on your race!  _

Fifteen minutes later.

_ Did you win? _

Joe grimaced and typed out a quick reply.

_ No :/ Nile did tho! White Spyder was a no show and threw me off.  _

Joe was about to tune into the conversation and put away his phone when it buzzed in his hand. 

_ I’m sorry, I know how you hate to lose. _

_ That’s okay, my own fault. _

_ Did you at least get second? _

_ Of course, who do you think I am? _

_ Thank God. I can’t be dating someone who doesn’t even make podium.  _

Joe barked out a laugh and Booker raised his eyebrow at him. 

“Texting lover boy?” 

“Are you just going to make up names until you run out?”

Booker looked thoughtful.

“Yes, but I’m very creative so you’ll have to get used to it.” 

Joe rolled his eyes and Booker grinned before turning back to the conversation. 

_ What are you even doing up? Isn’t it like super early there? _

_ It’s 6am here, we're having an early shoot. _

_ OMG are you texting and driving?!?!  _

_ Yes, James Bond is on my tail as we speak. _

Joe huffed in amusement. 

_ Well I shouldn’t distract you. _

_ Your distraction is welcome ;)  _

_ Still. I have to get home anyways, text later?  _

_ Of course, good night. _

_ Good morning.  _

\---

If pressed, Joe might admit that he was a little grumpy for the next few days. He wasn’t sure if it was losing the race or Nicky being gone after such a fabulous date, but he was definitely not in a good mood. He and Nicky were texting almost constantly, and calling when they could, but it felt to Joe like talking to Nicky so much only made the man’s absence that much more evident. 

His family, of course, were an insufferable pain in the ass.

It was difficult to say who was the worst. Andy gave him the least amount of crap, instead shooting him a few significant looks and a well placed cough when he smiled broadly at his phone. Booker was probably second worse just because he had a natural proclivity to be an asshole. In a nice way. Nile would have been the worst because of her ceaseless teasing in a generational vernacular he didn’t understand, but in reality the worst was Booker and Nile together _. _

Andy had finally told them to knock it off when they took to reading aloud badly translated Italian poetry after they caught him reading the book Nicky had given him. Thankfully, the pranks were reduced to terrible love poems spelled out on their shared refrigerator in magnets from then on. No more trading his heart sunglasses for heart shaped frames or hijacking his stereo to only play Tarantella Napoletana or Hunk of Burning Love. 

He loved his family, but they could be the absolute worst.

“Nile, family dinner is in your honor this week.” Andy sat on top of her work bench and tossed her apple in the nearby trash can. “Your choice on what we do.” 

It was Thursday at lunch and they had family dinner that night. Nile had classes every other night and on the weekend nights —  well, she was a college student after all. 

“What about a movie too? When was the last time we went to a movie?” Joe added, and Andy shrugged, clearly leaving the decision to Nile.

“Yeah a movie could be nice, what about that new Fast and Furious? We can make fun of the inaccuracies.” 

Joe groaned and feigned exasperation as Andy cheered. He always pretended to hate the series, but the group knew better. 

“In that case we should go to that Mexican place on Vine Ave and get some margaritas beforehand.” 

Nile snapped her fingers and pointed at Booker approvingly. 

“Amazing. Yes, that’s what we’re going to do.” 

“Alhamdulillah there’s a show at seven thirty, buying the tickets now,” Joe told them, reserving the seats on his phone.  “Sure Nicky won’t mind you’re indisposed for the night?” Booker joked. 

“No, it’ll be pretty late on set anyways.” He looked up to catch the tail end of Andy and Booker sharing a look, and Nile looked like she was holding back a smile. 

“Oh shut up.” He threw his sandwich wrapper at Booker, who deflected it into the trash can with a laugh. He stood and made his way back to the office.    
  
“Well I better get back to work before the boss sees me sitting around.” 

“Leaving at five!” Andy shouted after him. He waved a lazy hand over his head in acknowledgement. 

\---

The theatre was crowded for a Thursday night, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as the weekend showings were. Joe and Nile were two margaritas in and smuggling a third in their water bottles, Andy had had more but stopped counting, and since Booker no longer drank, he was in charge of getting them all home. 

Joe was in a great mood. Nicky had called later that afternoon, evening for him, to tell him that he would be home on Saturday and wanted to see Joe as soon as he landed. Joe had offered to pick him up from the airport, which Nile teased him about for at least ten minutes (Andy even joined in, the traitor), and he now knew when he’d see Nicky again. That would put anyone in a good mood. The tequila and his family didn’t hurt either. 

They arrived and sat down in their seats just as the previews were starting, shushing each other like children on a field trip. Luckily there weren’t too many people in the theatre to be annoyed at them. Joe sat next to Nile, Booker then Andy on her other side. They were sharing popcorn and sour skittles, which went well with the margaritas they were sipping. As always, the theatre was too cold for Joe’s comfort. He slid low in his seat and snuggled further into his jacket, grateful he’d brought it in. 

The previews went by without Joe really taking in what they were about, instead contemplating whether he and Nicky should get lunch when he got back or if Joe should cook him something at the apartment instead. The opening credits, however, had him perking up and straightening so that he could more easily whisper quips to Nile. 

Not too surprisingly, the film started off with a massive car chase. Nile leaned over to comment that their suspension must be completely shot after the jumps they were taking and Joe replied that the undercarriages were probably melted off already. Nile giggled as the cars whizzed across the screen, taking turns that would be suicidal if not for movie magic. 

Then, the camera switched to an overhead view, mimicking a helicopter following the chase. From this view, a third car entered the screen, and Joe’s mouth dropped open. That was a 2019 Lancia Stratos, all black with white detailing and windows tinted so dark it was impossible to see the driver within. He knew that car — he’d worked on that car with a tall Italian stunt driver looking over his shoulder. 

“Joe, is that-?” Nile asked, tapping his arm. 

“It must be,” he replied as the three cars accelerated to barely avoid oncoming traffic. 

“Well that explains the leaking master clutch,” she muttered and Joe hummed in agreement. That was a lot of stress to put on a car that wasn’t built for urban racing. 

Booker tossed one of his Twizzlers at him and knocked Joe’s attention from the screen. 

“Joe!” he hissed. “Is that-?” 

“Yeah!” Nile told him, grabbing the Twizzler off of Joe and eating it. Andy made a questioning noise and they began to fill her in as Joe turned his attention back to the screen. 

There was something familiar about that car. Obviously, he’d worked on it and knew that it was very likely that Nicky was the one driving, but there was something else tugging at the edge of his consciousness. Maybe it was blocked by the copious amounts of tequila fogging his brain. 

Discreetly, he took out his phone and shot Nicky a quick text. 

_ U didn’t tell u were in new fast n furious??  _

He slipped his phone back into his pocket as the movie’s feeble plot began to unfurl, content that Nicky would see the text when he woke up.

It wasn’t until later in the film that the realization struck. It was during the last race scene, the black Stratos hugging curves with precision but caution, that Joe realized what had been bothering him. The Stratos raced like the Spyder. It was a similar build of car and would have to be handled in a comparable way. The long flat nose and minimal undercarriage clearance meant that it was perfectly made for cutting through the air but created a lot of draft, which made it more difficult to steer. It wasn’t the type of car you’d want on tight turns, which is how Joe had managed the upper hand on their last race together. 

On the large screen the Stratos was neck and neck with a red Corvette (something that would never happen in real life), the two cars playing chicken as a turn rapidly approached. In tandem, they braked and engaged their clutches to swing around the narrow turn, the exact move that Joe and the Spyder had executed just the week before. Joe felt frozen to his seat, his clouded mind having difficulty connecting the dots that were starting to emerge . 

_ There’s no way that Nicky’s the Spyder, he would have told me. _

He felt Nile tap him on the shoulder, and he turned to see the same question in her eyes.

“That was the move y’all did, right?” she whispered and Joe nodded numbly. 

_ Unless he didn’t.  _ Nicky’s words came back to his mind unbidden: “I can do tricks,” he had said. A maneuver like that was a pretty high level trick. Joe hadn’t thought about it in the heat of the race, but the likelihood of them crashing during that was much higher than the chance that they could pull it off successfully. 

_ He only drives Italian cars.  _ Nile’s voice sounded in his ear, even though she hadn’t said anything. Lamborghini's were very  _ very _ Italian, probably the most famous Italian car brand. 

“Fuck,” he exhaled softly and with feeling. There was really no other conclusion to reach: Nicky was the driver of the white Spyder, the driver who had been messing up his reputation and winning streak these past few weeks. The driver who had wormed his way into his brain to taunt him even when he didn’t show, which, Joe now realized, was because he was shooting a fucking movie in  _ Canada. _

He felt Nile put a hand on his shoulder, her thoughts having followed the same path as his. 

“Joe, are you okay?” 

“I need a minute.” 

He got up and went to the bathroom despite there only being minutes left in the movie. His mind was racing — he’d never wished so desperately that he was sober. He splashed water on his face and used the rough paper towels to dry it off. 

Of course this would happen to him. The first time he’s felt something for someone in — well in ever, and it’s the rival who’s threatening to unseat him from his throne. A rival who wouldn’t even condescend to show his face. But, in the end Joe supposed he had shown his face, just not in the way that he had expected. 

Most of all, Nicky had lied. Maybe not to his face, but by omission. He’d sat across from Joe for hours, knowing that Joe was his rival, and hadn’t said a thing. How could he trust him now? Joe felt sick to his stomach and he knew it wasn’t just the tequila. He had really been ready to give Nicky everything, to open up about who he was and let someone see him in a way that he had never allowed anyone to before. He had been ready to share his life, as rash and early as it seemed, but Nicky had been secretly holding back the whole time. He had been hiding who he was while Joe laid himself bare. He felt the aching part of his chest give a single sharp pain before fading into a numbness that seemed to spread through his body.

Booker appeared behind him in the mirror and gently placed a hand on his back. His eyes said that Nile had told him what had happened. 

“You okay Yusuf?” 

Joe looked at him in the mirror and felt himself crumple. Booker gathered him into his arms with a small sigh and stroked up and down his spine with one hand. 

“You’re okay, you’re okay you just got a shock.” 

Joe could feel the tears but didn’t make any other noise besides deep, shaking breaths. At last he turned his head slightly so Booker could hear.

“He lied to me.” 

Booker’s chest rose and fell with his sigh.

“Sometimes people lie even if they don’t want to. It can be hard to see another option. No matter what, it shouldn’t be on you to puzzle out someone’s secrets.” 

Joe took a deep breath and gave Booker a quick squeeze before rinsing off his face again. 

“Thanks Book.” 

“Let’s get you home. You need to sleep and maybe pray on it, but give yourself time to think before you react in a way you regret. 

Joe nodded slowly and followed Booker out of the bathroom and back to the car. Sitting in the backseat he took out his phone and stared at the screen for a moment before typing out a message and hitting send. 

_ Why didn’t you trust me enough to tell me? _

He rested his forehead on the window, watching the raindrops race each other to the other side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also! I always forget to add my [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/waiting-for-kevin-and-charlie)


	7. The Final Prix

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joe's temper is famous, he just can't figure out who it's directed at. Nicky's patience could win awards, but he might settle for the final prix trophy instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many kudos to fruityUndertaker! Hope everyone is doing well and hanging in there- we're getting to the end of this fic! In other news I'm thinking of starting a Mob!AU so let me know what y'all think of that

“Give him some time, it was a real shock for him.” 

Nicky nodded slowly. He and Nile were at a Starbucks not far from the shop. He had finally come to see Joe after days of getting no response to his calls and texts, but fate was against him: Joe was out with Booker to get some parts from Copley. 

Nicky had spent the past several days in misery. He’d woken up to the two texts from Joe, their tones entirely different from each other. At first, sleepy and confused, Nicky hadn’t understood what the second one meant. Then, he realized that somehow Joe had put the dots together. The Stratos Joe had worked on was in the film which he would have recognized, and Nicky had already told him about his job so that shouldn’t have been too much of a surprise, but how did he figure out the rest? 

_ Shit, the turn _ , he realized. There was a turn right at the end of the film that was almost identical to the one he and Joe did in their race together just days ago. To be truthful, the multiple takes he had done for that scene was the only reason he’d been able to pull it off with Joe. That was the only thing that could have given his racing identity away. 

The following days were some of the worst of Nicky’s life. Joe wasn’t answering and, despite the knowledge that hope was ill-advised, seeing the empty baggage claim at the airport had been yet another punch in the gut. Finally, he found himself sitting here with Nile, who had taken his arm and guided him out of the door of the shop almost as soon as he walked in. 

“He runs hot when he’s angry, but it never lasts too long,” she assured him, drawing him out of his brooding.

“It’s been a week, Nile.” She sighed and leaned back in her chair. 

“Yeah well, like I said, it was a shock.” She looked around them with pursed lips before flicking her eyes back to him and leaning forward on the table between them. “I don’t think you understand how big these races are for him. Before the shop started doing well, he and Andy were really in a bad way. These prix races helped them pay off a lot of their debts. They might be in the black now but it wasn’t always like that. I think he’s held onto that. So when a new racer is threatening what he considers his family’s security? And it turns out to be you?” 

“I... I hadn’t realized.”

Nile huffed out a laugh. “Because Joe is so forthcoming about it.” 

Nicky smiled softly at that and saluted her with his cup in agreement. 

“So you think I should just give him time? What about the final prix? It’s in only two days.” 

“I said give him time, not let him win.” 

Nicky chuckled and nodded.

“I think I can do that.” 

\--

Joe hadn’t spoken to Nicky in over a week. He never picked him up from the airport, and ignored his calls and texts. Apparently Nicky had come by the shop when Joe was on a supply run and spoke to Nile. She didn’t say what she’d told him, but the calls and texts had stopped. 

_ Good, I don’t want to talk to a liar anyways,  _ he thought. 

He knew, logically, that he was being ridiculous and more than a little bit unfair, but he had to rage and lick his wounds. Besides, the single largest race of the year was tomorrow and he had to focus. As with every year since Booker had taken over the books, Joe wasn’t allowed to know how much was on the line. Now that he and Nile were qualified, both of them were in the dark. 

Judging from Booker’s nerves the past several days, however, it was quite a lot.

He gave his work bench one last wipe down before putting away his rag and gathering his things. It was very late. Very, very late actually, Joe realized when he glanced at the clock on the wall. One thirty. Very, very early then. He was off work tomorrow, so he’d done his best to finish up as many projects as he could. When he had forewarning, he liked to stay up late the night before a race so that he was more alert by the time early morning rolled around. It was already late enough for him to turn in, but he had a feeling that he wouldn’t be sleeping until a few hours from now though. 

He was trying not to think about a lot of things, but the biggest by far was the ghost of the white Spyder in his mind. Would Nicky show? This race was only him, Nile, and Joe, so it’d be a total wash if he didn’t. Joe wasn’t sure he was ready to make amends, but he also wasn’t ready to give up on them together.

Suddenly, his body felt overwhelmingly tired and hollow. All he wanted to do was curl up in his bed and sleep until he forgot his problems. Outside, the lone light that lit the parking lot gave a surreal yellow cast to everything it touched. His car was the only thing left in the lot aside from the trailer that was pulled up next to the garage wall. Inside, his beauty was prepped and ready to go except for a few race-day checks they always did before the starting flag fell. 

His joints groaned as he stepped into his car and turned the ignition. He paused. He’d blown out his left knee playing soccer when he was young, and now it ached whenever there was a change in air pressure or too much moisture in the air. It aching now wasn’t a great sign for tomorrow, but he shrugged it off as a side effect of working too late in uncomfortable positions. He’d do some stretches in the morning to help limber it up.

\---

Joe woke up to a text and two missed calls from Andy. He groaned and buried his head in the pillow for a moment before unlocking his phone to see what the issue was. It was late in the morning, closer to afternoon, and these texts hadn’t been there when he’d gotten up to do his morning prayers before falling back asleep. 

The text was just a screenshot of an hourly rain forecast for the day: around 5 pm the chance of rain jumped to 50% and stayed there until midnight. He pressed the dial button and brought the phone to his ear as he stretched and let his eyes close.

“The race isn’t until two boss,” he ground out when she picked up, not bothering with a hello. 

“Yeah, because the weatherman is always right.” 

“As long as it’s been raining a while before the race we’ll be fine. It won’t be any record time but we’ll be fine.” The most dangerous time to ever drive in street racing, and in general, is in the first five to ten minutes of rain. In those precious minutes, the oil from past cars and trucks seeps out of the pavement and mixes with the water, creating a dangerous film that takes several minutes to be washed off of the road. In lighter rains it takes longer than a downpour, but both were very dangerous. 

Also, in street racing, you never called off a race. 

Only once had Joe ever been scheduled for a race that didn’t happen. The conditions were so bad that the racers had jointly refused to drive, but the result was that everyone lost their betting money, and the racers had to pay the hired watchers out of pocket. They really, really tried to avoid that. 

“Fine,” Andy said at last. “We’ll keep an eye on it. See you tonight?” 

“See you tonight boss.” 

“Joe,” she said quickly, before he could hang up. “Are you okay to do this?” 

Joe was silent.

“You know you don’t have to. If you don’t want to.” 

“I know,” he said softly. “Thanks boss.” 

He hung up and tossed his phone on the bedside table as he stared blindly up at the ceiling. 

Rain or no rain. Nicky or no Nicky. Tonight was going to suck. 

\---

Booker and Nile met Joe and Andy at the race start, and the four of them had a light snack they’d picked up from the late-night taco shop they were consistent patrons of. 

“Okay, so let’s go over the game plan one more time,” Andy started once she’d finished her barbacoa taco. “Booker, you’ll be in Nile’s ear and I’ll be with Joe. This route goes through several populated areas, Elmwood you’ll have to be especially careful because it’s a clubbing street and people will probably be out.” 

Nile and Joe nodded seriously. Thunder rumbled in the distance and Joe hid his flinch, though Booker wasn’t quite as successful. It hadn’t rained yet, but the skies were dark and violent with lightning. Most of the rainfall had been to the south of them, but Joe knew the wind was pushing it slowly towards them. Andy noticed their discomfort.

“I don’t want either of you doing something stupid,” she told Nile and Joe seriously. “If it starts raining, you slow down. I refuse to have either of you in the hospital over a street race. That doesn’t mean drive like a soccer mom, but slow it down and take it easy on the turns.” 

They both nodded again and Booker put a hand on Andy’s shoulder. 

“We know you’re both going to kick ass, rain probably won’t even be an issue if we finish this fast enough. Let’s do final tune-ups, yeah?” 

The group split into their teams to check on the cars that had been so lovingly prepared for this night. 

“I don’t see him,” Joe told Andy as they bent over the engine, checking it over for last minute issues or tweaks. 

“Are you surprised? He hasn’t been early yet.” 

She was right, of course. Nicky had never been early to a race before, why would this be any different? Around them, a diverse showing of the street racing community was gathering to watch. Unlike other races, this one’s starting point would be the same as the finish. Joe walked a circle around the car for a final check as Andy put the hood down. She opened the door for him to get in and shut it behind him. She leaned on the open window. 

“Hey. Take a few minutes, you’ve got time for that. I’ll let you know when you need to start moving.” 

Joe nodded his thanks and took deep breaths. His heart was normally racing with pre-race adrenaline, but right now it was frozen in his chest, stuck in mid-beat. He felt like he couldn’t take a deep enough breath. Andy knocked twice on the hood as she walked away, likely to go check on Booker and Nile. Joe let his head fall forward on the steering wheel while he fought to take breaths that actually filled his lungs. He thought back to how he prepared for prayer. 

_ Thoughts only on Allah. Nothing else matters. _

Nothing else mattered but this race. Nicky didn’t, Nile didn’t, not Andy or Booker. The potential rain was nothing right now; he would be ready if it happened and that was that. It was just him and his car that he had built from frame to mirrors. It was a test of their strength and cooperation. Of his skill and ability. Eyes the color of the sea he grew up near floated into his thoughts, a softy accented voice in his head. 

Another deep breath, in and out, in and out. He could do this. He was  _ going _ to do this. He shoved Nicky from his thoughts and opened his eyes slowly. He saw Andy walking back to his car. She tapped twice on the roof again, her own little tick. Joe was never sure if it was for luck or something less conscious than that, but she did it almost every time. 

“Time to pull up to the line Joe.” He nodded and pulled his helmet and white gloves on. 

“Mic check?” he asked, and Andy nodded. 

“All good.” He heard her more through the speaker at his ear than from by the window. She tapped and walked to where Booker was waiting for her. Booker shot him a thumbs up, which Joe returned, before both of them turned to walk to the start. The parking lot was almost entirely empty except for him and Nile now. Nile, across the aisle from him, gave him a thumbs up before pulling out and slowly making her way down into the storm drain. Joe followed. 

The storm drain was one of the massive ones designed to divert flood waters from the city, and could easily fit five cars abreast. This would be both their start and finish line, the middle of the race taking them through four distinct parts of the city. First, the industrial work yards, second, a small residential area, third, the party district, fourth, one of the wealthiest neighborhoods in the city, with wide avenues perfect for maneuvering past each other. 

He followed Nile down the ramp that had been set up for the race and shifted into park at the starting line. There was quite a crowd around them, even a few vendors offering drinks and churros. He shook his head slightly; it’d be difficult to keep this one quiet. He didn’t envy the organizers. Lightning broke the sky, temporarily illuminating the city skyline and then drowning everyone in the massive boom that followed. 

It meant that he almost missed the white Spyder pulling up on his left.  _ Almost,  _ but not quite. 

He had almost expected something to change, somehow, but the car was the exact same as it had been at the last race. He couldn’t see Nicky through the tinted windows, but there was no question in his mind that it was him. For a moment his numbness broke and all he really felt was disappointment, but he quickly banished that to the corner of his mind where all his other upper level thoughts were hiding. 

It was a good thing he did, because the second his eyes returned to the road, someone walked out in front of the cars, a handgun visible in their grip. With a start, he recognized Izod, who must have been an organizer this time. They stood in the gap between Nicky and Joe, and raised the gun. On either side of him he could hear the engines revving to go, the sound of his own engine thundering through his seat and wheel. Izod smiled, and fired the gun.

\---

Joe was nothing but focused as they peeled out of the storm drain, Nicky in the lead with Nile behind him. Thunder and lightning cracked the sky with increasing frequency now, but that was a problem for a future Joe. 

The three cars roared into the industrial yards, weaving between stacked shipping containers. There wasn’t a set path here, as the exit of the industrial area was diagonal to the way they came in. That left an open path for the cars to weave as they pleased. Unlike past races, they were only allowed to know the course, not scout the locations. Nile swerved into a different route behind him, but Joe stayed hard on Nicky’s tail. 

“Joe, watchers called in cops at the industrial park exit. Exit with caution.” 

“Copy that.” 

They were halfway through the park when Joe realized. 

_ Nicky doesn’t have a spotter. _

“Nicky doesn’t know, Andy.”

“Not your problem Joe.” 

Joe tsked and hit the wheel in frustration. Just because he was mad at Nicky didn’t mean he wanted him arrested. 

They were close to the exit now, and Joe saw Nile swing out in front of Nicky. 

“Put me through to Nile.”    
  
“Joe, this isn’t your issue.” 

“Now!” 

He heard the buzz and silence of the transfer and rapid-fire told Nile the plan. She agreed immediately. 

“Three, two, one, now!” 

Nile braked hard but with enough time for Nicky to react. Joe shot forward to flank Nile, both of them now blocking the way out of the yard. They went forward slowly, under the posted speed limit. Joe could picture Nicky’s face, frustrated yes, but more confused and curious as he tried to fit the pieces together. After they went through the gate, they stopped at the stop sign as a cop car drove past. They waited for it to turn the corner, and another several seconds after that. 

An impatient honk came from behind them, and Joe barked out a laugh of surprise. Nicky was done waiting. 

“Thanks Nile.” 

“You can thank me proper after I win this race.” 

Joe laughed, and they were off again. 

\---

The party district was a nightmare. The cops in this area must have all been paid off because Joe didn’t get any more warnings from Andy, despite seeing several cruisers. They blasted through one intersection without injury and were now slowed to a crawl — by their standards, at least. Weaving through the lanes and occasionally jumping into oncoming traffic was a test of focus, knowing the dimensions of their car, and having the guts to pull off any move possible. 

For the first race in a long time, Joe was actually having a good amount of fun. He, Nicky, and Nile were juking and doing their best to trick one another, but moving together seamlessly as they did so. He laughed when Nicky cut off Nile and cussed when she did the same to him. Finally, they were at the end of the main drag when the worst possible thing happened. 

The heavens opened up — but only a little. 

It wasn’t sprinkling, it was definitely raining, but it was light enough that it was misting the road ahead. These were the absolute worst conditions to race in and they were nearing the end. On one hand, it meant less time racing in the rain, on the other, their tires were already stripped from all the high speed maneuvers and were at their slickest. 

“Remember what I said, Joe. You can win this without being stupid.” 

“In sha Allah.” 

Andy didn’t respond, but he didn’t expect her to. He had other things to focus on. 

Both Nile and Nicky were behind him by a car length or more after the party district, and he intended to keep it that way as they shot into the expensive neighborhood. Nicky’s Spyder probably wasn’t too out of place here. The rain had been falling long enough to permeate the wide tree branches that protected the streets of the neighborhood, but not long enough to wash away the grease on the road. 

Nile, far back in his rearview, turned off a side street at the last minute. He put her out of his mind and focused on not giving Nicky the space to pass him. It was difficult to mirror while navigating the twisted roads, but he was no novice. In the last stretch before the sharp turn that would lead them down a hill, into the storm drain and through the final straightaway to the finish line, Nicky managed to pull up even with Joe by faking to his left before rocketing up on his right. They were neck and neck, together rapidly approaching the 180 degree turn. Joe’s mind flashed back to their first race together and the scene in the movie that had taken it all apart. 

Nicky really wasn’t slowing, and in the back of his mind, Joe could hear Andy’s voice from what felt like ages ago. 

_ Go in under speed and kick it on the exit _ , she’d told him, and that’s what he’d done, but with Nicky right beside him. This time, the road was thinner, and it was more slick than he’d ever driven before. There was no way to make this one together. 

Nicky decided it for them in the end, by slowing to let Joe take the turn first. It didn’t make sense, because Nicky’s car would have the bigger kick at the end; he could’ve held out and had the victory in the bag. Joe decided that now wasn’t the time to think about it. 

He probably should have slowed more than he did, but his adrenaline was pumping and he was so close to the end he could taste it. His rear tires spun for traction as he hauled on the wheel, fighting to find traction on the slippery tarmac. The hill was steep, and the guard rails on the side stopped far too short to halt a car fishtailing at the speed he was. For a split second, he was certain one of his rear wheels was off the side, but then he found traction and violently righted himself. To his shock, he could see Nile several car lengths in front of him. 

_ I can catch her,  _ he realized, and checked his rearview just in time to see Nicky's back wheel slip off the road the same way his had. 

Time slowed, and he could see the droplets flying from the front tires as they spun against the pavement, struggling to find purchase on the slick surface until the overwhelming kinetic energy won out, and Nicky tumbled over the edge. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plz don't hate me.


	8. Words from Italy, with Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If Joe is the sun and Nicky is the moon, their love is the tide. Warmed by one and drawn by the other, calm, changing, but ever steady.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO SORRY this took so long to post! Everyone's lovely and supportive comments were so so appreciated- I love you all!!
> 
> Here we finally are, the last chapter. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has stayed with this fic these past few weeks and given feedback and support. You've all been wonderful and I have so so enjoyed the writing of this. 
> 
> A special shoutout to fruityUndertaker- who beta'd this whole thing for me despite my questionable writing schedule. 
> 
> As a note, I have two other fics that I will be start posting on tomorrow! After some feedback on the mob!AU and disrespecting Nicky's Italian heritage, I've reworked it into a secret agent/espionage fic that I actually think works better. The other is a competing lawyers fic! Both are from Nile's POV. Subscribe to my page for updates!

“Nicky!” Joe yelled, slamming on the brakes and getting out of his car. The Spyder tumbled head over tail down the rocky hill and into the storm drain, landing with a crunch on the roof of the car. 

“Joe, what’s happening.” Andy’s voice was low and urgent in his ear, and it snapped him out of his shock. The numbness fled, leaving only a painful level of fear and adrenaline . He could taste it in his mouth. 

“Nicky went over the edge. Get an ambulance.” He rushed back to the Camaro and gunned the car forward, needing to get to him as quickly as possible. “Tell Nile to finish.” 

“You’re both going to finish.” 

“No. I’m stopping. I need to get him.” 

“Joe there’s nothing-” Joe ripped his helmet off, and Andy’s voice cut off with it. At last he reached the storm drain, turning left where Nile had turned right and speeding to where the Spyder had fallen, flames now licking up the far side. He was out of the car the second it was in park, dropping to his knees by the shattered driver’s side window and the very very still figure inside. 

“Nicky. Nicky please can you hear me?” His fingers shook as he unclasped Nicky’s helmet and slid it off as gently as he could manage. Nicky’s face was largely intact; there was blood from tiny cuts around his eyes and the bridge of his nose where glass from the windshield had hit him, but thankfully nothing looked horrible. 

Except, of course, that he was upside down in a burning car and completely unresponsive. 

Joe breathed a shaky sigh of relief all the same and reached to unbuckle the unconscious man’s seatbelt, the only thing holding him in the car. He cradled the man’s head and torso as best he could before hitting the button, and Nicky dropped heavily from the seat onto his back. Joe winced, sure the glass was cutting into his skin. Joe was strong, but the position was too awkward to pick Nicky up, so he put his arms under Nicky’s shoulders and pulled him from the wreckage. As he did, the flames began to lick onto the driver’s seat Nicky had been in moments before. 

Once they were a safe distance away, Joe laid Nicky out carefully. 

“You’re okay, you’re okay we’re safe now,” he said quietly, but was drawn up short by the dark stain on the front of Nicky’s shirt and the sharp shard of metal that was protruding from it. He felt his hands begin to shake again as he took in how fast the blood was pooling around them. Tears pricked his eyes and he looked around desperately for help, almost missing when Nicky groaned and moved his head a bit, his eyes fluttering. 

“Nicky! Nicky habibi don’t move okay?” 

In an instant Joe’s full attention was back on Nicky. He took Nicky’s hand and kissed it gently, holding it tight as his other hand stroked Nicky’s cheek gently. 

“You’re hurt,” he whispered as Nicky’s unfocused eyes finally found him. “You’re hurt bad, habibi.” 

Nicky, the lovely, beautiful man, just smiled softly. 

“That explains the pain.” 

Joe, tears flowing now, gave a choked laugh that sounded more like a sob. He brought Nicky’s hand to his lips again, giving a quick prayer to Allah for strength. He didn’t know for which one of them it was meant. 

“Did you win?” 

Joe looked up at him and shook his head. He could hear running in the distance.

“No Nicolό, I came for you.” 

Nicky’s face didn’t change much, but Joe could see the understanding and recognition in his eyes. Allah he was a  _ fool _ for cutting this man out. His anger at himself came quickly and violently, but was interrupted by Nicky's voice. 

“Joe, Joe I am so sorry I didn’t tell you.” Joe shook his head and leaned their foreheads together. He shushed him, his eyes shut tight. “I was nervous — ” Joe stopped him with a kiss. It was chaste and gentle, but it quieted Nicky. 

“You have no reason to apologize,” he said when he pulled away, keeping them close. “I was the one acting as only a selfish fool would. I am sorry.” 

Before Nicky could respond, Andy, Booker, and Nile reached them. Joe could see Izod further behind them. 

“Ambulance is on its way, we’re clearing everyone out before they get here,” Andy told him, dropping down on Nicky’s other side and taking in the damage. To her credit, she didn’t even bat an eye. Nile, Joe could see out of the corner of his eye, was not having the same reaction. 

“Hey there Nicky, partied too hard tonight huh?” Andy joked, taking Nicky’s other hand in hers. 

Nicky chuckled, and to Joe’s horror it sounded wet. 

“Why do you ask? Do I look bad?” 

“Let’s just say I’ve seen you better,” Andy replied wryly. 

Izod reached them. They stood with their hands on their hips, panting slightly and not phased at all by the state Nicky was in. 

“We need everyone out, they’ll for sure be sending cops with the EMTs. 

“I’m not leaving Nicky,” Joe declared immediately. Izod shrugged. 

“That’s your choice.” 

“Nile, take Joe’s car and put it back in the trailer.” Andy handed Nile the keys to her truck. “Booker, go with her and drop your car off on the service road leading down here. I’ll stay with Joe and we’ll claim he saw him go over and called 911.” 

Nile nodded curtly and went to the Camaro, Booker right behind her, departing with a soft- “Okay Boss.” 

“Izod, you better clear out,” Andy told them asBooker and Nile reversed and then sped back down the drain. 

“Joe,” Izod said, seriously. He looked up at them;Nicky’s eyes had slid shut again during their conversation. “You’ve been disqualified for not finishing the race. You’re going to owe racing, watcher, and bet fees.”

“You can send me the bill,” Joe dismissed. “I have bigger things to worry about.” 

Izod nodded, their mouth tight. 

“Good luck, I’m — I’m sorry this happened.” 

Joe didn’t have the energy to acknowledge their statement, but Andy might’ve made eye contact or something because he could hear them walk away. Joe stroked a hand through Nicky’s hair, his head lax on his neck. There was the sound of gravel crunching and Booker’s nondescript Honda Civic pulled up; they used it frequently as a getaway car. He tossed the keys to Andy and patted Joe on the shoulder before jogging up the hill to where Nile was waiting in the truck.

Finally, it was quiet but for their breathing and Nicky’s wet sounds. Joe kept one hand in Nicky’s, the other cradling the side of his face gently. It was turned towards Joe, and he had never wanted to see those eyes more than he did now. Andy didn’t say anything because there was nothing to say. They both knew Nicky was hurt bad, and they’d suffered through plenty of hollow consolations when Quynh had been dying. No words could matter now.

They heard the siren before they saw the red and blue lights. Once the ambulance started to descend the service road, the storm drain lit up like a badly planned rave. The noise was startling, and Joe felt as if he’d been locked in a bubble that had just been shattered. He was too dazed to answer their questions, which thankfully Andy took over for him. In the back of his mind he knew he should be listening so their stories matched up, but he couldn’t bring himself to pull his attention away from Nicky.

“Sir, we need you to move so that we can stabilize him.” 

The EMT spoke calmly as she forced him to move. Joe felt like he had lost his anchor the second Nicky’s hand left his. 

“I need to go with him.” 

“Are you his boyfriend? Husband?” A different EMT asked, not looking at Joe as he filled out a form on an iPad. 

“No, no we’re-” 

_ What were they?  _ Joe felt frozen, he was so  _ stupid _ .

“They’re partners,” Andy filled in, and the EMT accepted it without challenge, making a note on the iPad. 

“Sir you can come with us but he’s going to go directly into surgery.” The other two EMTs, both women, had put Nicky’s head in a brace and transferred him onto a gurney with admirable efficiency. A fire truck had finally pulled up to deal with the car, forced to take a different route as the service road was too tight for its length. 

It felt as if everything was moving too fast and glacially slow at the same time. 

“Joe.” His attention snapped over to Andy, who was looking at him with barely concealed concern. “Go with Nicky, I’ll meet you at the hospital.” 

Joe nodded mutely and followed the EMTs to where they were loading Nicky into the back of the ambulance. An IV had already been put in his wrist and they were putting something Joe didn’t recognize around the wound to stop the bleeding. His body was numb and he felt like someone else was piloting his body as he sat out of their way. Each breath Nicky took sounded wetter than the one before, and Joe held tight to one of Nicky’s hands, which were now strapped to the gurney. 

“What does that sound mean?”

He heard his own voice from a distance, as if someone else had asked the question. One of the EMTs answered, her face neutral but her eyes grim. 

“It means the shard has punctured his lung, and it’s filling with blood. If we don’t get it out and repair the damage quickly enough, he may drown in his own blood.” 

She told him this plainly, and Joe appreciated her not trying to coddle him. Her partner patted Joe’s shoulder. 

“You did the right thing by not removing the shard, it would have increased the internal bleeding.” 

Joe nodded and gripped Nicky’s hand harder. It hadn’t even occurred to him to remove the metal sticking out of Nicky’s gut at an angle. He’d taken one look at it, been horrified, but quickly filed it away as something that he was not qualified to do. Andy had probably thought about it, but she must’ve come to the same conclusion as the EMT. 

It seemed that the EMTs had done all that they could for Nicky at the moment, as they both sat back on the bench opposite Joe and made a point to look at other things to give them their privacy. Joe appreciated it, but the silence let his mind wander to dark places that he would rather not travel, and tears pricked at his eyes again. 

“Oh Nicoló, what must we do with you habibi,” Joe told him softly, brushing back what hair he could reach around the head brace they’d put him in. “You are too kind to enter my life just to leave it now.” Joe worked his jaw, fighting and failing to stop his tears from falling. 

“ _ Forse perché della fatal quiete _

_ tu sei l’immago, a me si cara vieni, _

_ o Sera! E quando ti corteggian liete _

_ le nubi estive e i zeffiri sereni,” _

Joe recited the poem from memory — it wasn’t one Nicky had marked, but it had spoken to Joe.

_ “e quando dal nevoso aere inquiete _

_ tenebre e lunghe all’universo meni, _

_ sempre scendi invocata, e le secrete _

_ vie del mio cor soavemente tieni.” _

His voice stayed at a whisper, but became stronger as he spoke. It felt like a prayer.

_ “Vagar mi fai co’ miei pensier su l’orme _

_ che vanno al nulla eterno; e intanto fugge _

_ questo reo tempo, e van con lui le torme, _

_ delle cure onde meco egli si strugge; _

_ e mentre guardo la tua pace, dorme _

_ quello spirto guerrier ch’entro mi rugge.”  _

_ ( _ _ Perhaps because you are the image of that fatal quiet _

_ so dear to me, you have come, _

_ O Evening! And when happy summer clouds _

_ and the gentle west wind are your escort, _

_ and when from snowy restless heights _

_ you send shadows and darkness into the world, _

_ you descend summoned always, and gently hold _

_ the secret ways of my heart. _

_ You make my thoughts wander forms _

_ that vanish into eternal nothing; meanwhile _

_ this cursed time flees, and with it, the throng _

_ of cares with which it me destroys; _

_ and while I gaze on your peace, that warlike spirit _

_ sleeps, that yet within me roars.  _

_ Ugo Foscolo (Translated by Nick Benson))  _

He kissed Nicky’s forehead gently as the sirens cut off and they pulled into the ER entrance of the hospital. Without a word, the EMTs opened the doors and jumped out as soon as the ambulance stopped, Nicky’s hand torn from Joe’s grasp. He followed, still numb, as they handed Nicky over to the waiting nurses who asked Joe a million questions he could not answer. One of them put a hand on his chest and stopped him from following Nicky through the swinging double doors. “Sir, sir you can’t follow him in there. He’s going to be prepped and go straight into surgery. You can wait for him here or come back later in the morning, it’s going to take a while.” 

She didn’t say more before turning to follow Nicky through the doors, leaving Joe alone in a mostly empty waiting room. 

“Sir? Sir are you his next of kin?” A kind looking nurse had come forward from the ER desk with a clipboard and pen in his hands. Joe looked at him blankly. Something in his face must’ve answered in the affirmative, because the man handed him the paperwork.

“If you could fill out what you can on this and get it back to me that’d be great.” 

Joe nodded, glancing down at the paperwork. When he looked back up, the man was gone. 

The numbness faded, and Joe just felt scared. Scared, and more alone than he had ever been.

\---

It took five hours for someone to come out and talk to him. Andy had shown up not long after they’d left Joe standing in the waiting room, and she helped him fill out what parts of the paperwork they could. Booker and Nile came with coffee and breakfast tacos soon after that. Joe took the coffee if only to have something to hold in his hands. Distantly, he knew that he should probably eat, but he wasn’t sure his stomach could handle it. 

“Nicky would want you to take care of yourself Joe,” Nile told him at last, Booker nodding next to her. Andy had gone to get Joe a less dirty change of clothes. Joe ate a taco, but he didn’t really taste it. 

When, at last, the doctor who had taken Nicky away came back into the waiting room, Joe was on his feet in an instant. The doctor looked tired, but unsurprised to find four people anxiously waiting where previously there had only been one. 

“He’s okay. He’s resting now.” The group breathed a sigh of relief in tandem, Andy putting a strong arm around Joe when he slumped. The doctor continued. “His lung was punctured, and it had started to collapse when we got him into surgery. Luckily we had enough time to repair most of the damage, though it’ll be a long recovery. Let’s just say a marathon isn’t in his near future.” He looked down at his clipboard. “He also has deep tissue bruising around his ribs, a minor concussion, two broken fingers and likely some pretty bad whiplash.” 

“When can I see him?” Joe asked, his voice relieved but still nervous. 

“I can take one person back now, but no more than one at a time until he’s awake and out of post op.” 

“We’ll go and get washed up,” Andy told Joe. “You go.” 

Joe nodded and his feet followed the doctor of their own accord. His heart was in his throat as he walked down the sterile hallways to a single room. The doctor left him in the doorway and, for a moment, Joe couldn’t look at the occupant of the bed. When he did finally raise his gaze, he almost had to look away immediately. Nicky looked so fragile a touch could shatter him into a thousand pieces. He was almost the color of his now wrecked car, and the scrapes on his face from the broken glass of the windshield were a vivid red. 

Joe took tentative steps closer to the raised hospital bed, the machines around it assuring Joe that Nicky was, in fact, alive. He could see a peek of bandages under the neck of his hospital gown, and his right hand was in a cast. 

_ It must’ve gotten crushed between the gear shaft and the seat,  _ Joe realized. 

He dragged one of the chairs over to the side of the bed, Nicky between him and the door. He took his uninjured hand in his, being extra careful of the tubes connected to his wrist. 

“I’m so sorry my Nicoló. Truly.” He brought his hand up to his lips. “I will not leave you again.” He settled back and felt his mind finally settle as well. Nicky was here, he was safe as he could be, and he was within Joe’s reach. Now the only thing to do was to wait. 

\---

Nicky could feel his head throbbing, but it felt like it was gradually receding so long as his eyes stayed closed. When it reached a manageable level he slowly opened his eyes. Thankfully, the lights in the hospital room were dimmed and the shades were drawn. His hand was warm, and he struggled to shift his head to find the source of the heat. It was Joe, looking more stressed than he had ever seen him but radiant all the same. The circles under his eyes had deepened, and unnatural-looking frown lines had developed around his mouth. His hand was lax in Nicky’s, and his chin rested against his chest, like he had fallen asleep without meaning to. 

_ Adrenaline crash, _ his mind supplies, finally booting into gear and giving him thoughts, not just observations. Gently, he squeezed Joe’s hand. 

Joe’s reaction was instantaneous. He straightened quickly and groaned, taking his hand out of Nicky’s to rub at his eyes and stretch. After a moment, he seemed to realize what had woken him up and he looked at Nicky, his eyes tired but alert. They took each other in for a long moment, Joe to make sure that Nicky was really okay, and Nicky to assure Joe that he was fine. 

Nicky reached his hand out. Joe choked out a relieved sob and replaced his hand. 

“Nicky, I’m so sorry.” 

“It was not your fault.” 

“You know what I mean.” 

“I do.” 

Nicky tightened his hold. Joe squeezed back, his eyes soft, his smile lines back.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He didn’t sound mad, just curious. 

“I was nervous,” Nicky admitted grudgingly. 

“You were  _ nervous _ ?” Joe exclaimed. Nicky blushed. “Joe, you don’t understand your effect.” 

“My effect?” Joe’s eyes were dancing, his tone definitely teasing now.

“Yes, your effect you fool.” Joe was laughing openly, but softened his teasing with a kiss to Nicky’s hand. Nicky laid his head back, chuckling. His laughter faded, but a small smile stayed on his face. 

“Did you recite Ugo Foscolo to me in the ambulance?” 

Now it was Joe’s turn to blush. He nodded. 

“I didn’t think you were aware.” 

“I don’t think I was. I just remember your voice.” Joe hummed in understanding. 

A nurse came in to check on Nicky, and he patiently answered all of her questions, his hand never leaving Joe’s. She went back over Nicky’s injury list and gave Joe some recovery to-dos. 

“Your boyfriend is a fighter,” she told Joe cheerfully, and winked at Nicky on her way to the door. “He’s going to recover just fine.” 

Nicky turned his head to Joe after she left. 

“Is that what I am? Your boyfriend?” 

Joe’s eyes were indescribable in that moment, and Nicky could’ve sworn what air was left in his lungs fled. 

“Habibi, you are all and you are more.” 

_fin_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, did I mention that I'm going to post an epilogue this afternoon? Because I am, so be on the lookout!


	9. A 'Lil Extra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's just a bit more sweetness for y'all!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's y'all's extra treat for being such great commentors and giving this fic so much love! I hope to be posting on the next two tomorrow! 
> 
> As always, feel free to join me on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/waiting-for-kevin-and-charlie)! (I do take fic requests!)

Nicky grunted as Joe’s foot knocked against his shoulder gently. He heard Joe’s intake of breath and whispered apology. Nicky waved him off and wiggled deeper into the blankets. It was twenty minutes until sunrise, Nicky knew this because Joe managed to wake Nicky every time he got up for his morning prayers, but Nicky also knew he wouldn’t trade his early morning wake up for the world. 

He must’ve dozed off, because the next thing he remembers Joe is getting up from the last position of his prayer. His bed head is wild mane, but it was one of Nicky’s favorite sights. Joe went into the kitchen, his worn pj bottoms riding low on his hips, and came back out with two cups of coffee. He put one on the bedside table as he sat on the side of the bed. Nicky curled around his middle, and Joe bent down to kiss the top of his head. 

“How are you feeling?” 

Nicky took a moment to think about it. He straightened out and took a sip of his coffee. 

“Good.” He decided. “Almost no tenderness.” 

It had been three months since the accident, and a few weeks since he had gotten the stitches removed. He had been staying with Joe throughout his recovery, his larger apartment and bed much more welcoming than his own barely unpacked place downtown. 

“That’s great! Do you want to come into the shop today? You can be our secretary for the day.” 

Nicky chuckled. Since he had been able to sit up he had taken to manning the counter at the shop just for a change of scenery from the apartment. Being the secretary “for the day” was a gross understatement. 

“Yeah, I can finish the book you suggested so we can talk about it over dinner.” 

Nicky sat up against the bed’s headboard. 

“We should pick up breakfast tacos to thank the garage for putting up with me.” 

Joe kissed him gently. 

“No one is putting up with you. You’re part of the family now.” 

“Well it would still be nice.” 

“That it would.” Joe agreed. 

\---

Nicky was just finishing his book when Nile walked in that afternoon. 

“Hey.” He greeted. “How are finals going?” It was the end of Nile’s semester, and she would be going home to Chicago for winter break soon. She groaned as she tossed her bag behind the counter and sat on a stool next to him. She thunked her head down onto the countertop. 

“So, not well?” He asked. She peeked one eye out at him, reproachful.

“You’re not as funny as you think you are.” She said dryly. She huffed out a sigh and straightened. “Finals are going fine, it’s just like all so much at once you know. I feel like if I had them one at a time it’d be fine, but no, they’re all in the same week.” 

Nicky nodded his head in understanding, dogearring the page he was on in the book he had been reading. 

“That is very difficult to manage. I’m sorry it’s such a big load.” 

“Yeah, kind of my own choosing but, thanks.” 

“Well, maybe fixing some engines will help. Do you want to teach me what’s wrong with that BMW?” 

Nile laughed.

“A messed up belt really isn’t that difficult to fix.” 

“Well I’ve never done it. Besides, we can pretend to do it wrong so that Joe gets upset.” 

Nile laughed again. 

“I knew you’d be an asset to me and Booker.” 

Nicky faked not understanding as they went into the garage. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” 

\---

Joe was already in bed and Nicky was brushing his teeth when Joe finally asked the question Nicky knew had been on his mind ever since Nicky had gotten his stitches out.

“Do you think you’ll ever race again?” Nicky leaned over to spit out his toothpaste before rinsing out his mouth and turning to lean against the bathroom door frame. Joe was laying on his side, his dark eyes glittering as they tried to hide the curiosity on his emotive face. 

“I think I will have to when my medical leave is up.” Nicky finally replied, just so he could see Joe roll his eyes and smile.

“You know that wasn’t what I was asking.” Nicky flipped off the light and crossed to join Joe on the bed, sitting in a position mirror to how they were just that morning.

“I think it is likely. You haven’t raced since my accident.” He pointed out, looking down at Joe, who was fiddling with his bookmark.

“Yeah.” Joe looked up at him. “I wasn’t sure you’d approve.” 

Nicky felt his brow furrow.

“You shouldn’t not do something because of how you think I’d feel about it.” 

“No, that’s not what I- I meant that I wasn’t sure you’d want to be involved, and I want you involved.” Nicky felt himself drowning in Joe’s eyes, as he always did when Joe got earnest. “And I want you involved in every aspect of my life. At the shop, family dinners, here, and yes in racing. Even if you’re not racing I want to know that it would be you at the finish line to greet me.” 

Nicky leaned down to kiss Joe firmly, making sure he understood the words they weren’t yet ready to say. He pulled away only a few inches.

“If I am greeting you at the finish line, it will be because I beat you across it.” 

“If we’re not careful, Nile will beat us both across.” 

Joe laughed and Nicky grinned, kissing him again until he was breathless. They curled up into each other, Joe at Nicky’s back, in the position they had grown to love during Nicky’s recovery. Nicky could feel Joe snuggling his nose into the back of his neck once he turned off the bedside lamp. 

“I guess we should start fixing up the Spyder.” Joe murmured as they settled in, his voice slightly muffled in Nicky’s neck. Nicky hummed in agreement.

“I know a pretty good mechanic.”


End file.
